Anne Frank’s High Heels by Phillis Levin

When Miep took us home with her
She held us up in the air,
Eye-level with those eyes
You may know, eyes spelling
Sorrow-girl, wait-for-me,
One-day, hurry-back, don’t-tell.
Two new hands took us in,
Skin cradling skin.
How empty we had been,
Only a little bit worn —
Not a penny, not a pebble
Dwelling within.
We became an altar,
An offering red as wine,
A wishing well.
She was made to carry us
Near and far,
We were made to bear
The pressure of her feet
In darkness, in light,
Their sweetness, their heat.
We were getting used to her.
Miep calls us a handsome pair.

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