In WalMart Checkout Aisle #4
My mother never let us walk barefoot in public
“That’s what poor white people do”
with their children
dried ice cream smeared on their faces
caked into their clothes, matting thin hair
little white feet, brown
with someone else’s dirt
“Why they so naaasty?”
my youngest sister whispered
mouth always bigger than her manners
Mom shushed her quickly
popping her tiny wrist
I looked down at my shoes
all white leather and laces
tied in perfect little bows
not a spot on them
Bird's First Song
Vespertine
