The Truth About Tigers

The shoes lay by the bed,
kicked off, carelessly askew—
a task left for tomorrow
at the end of an ordinary day.

The left one tipped on its side,
the other still upright,
toes angled toward its mate
as if in quiet reproach.

Had he known there would be visitors,
that they’d read sorrow
in their small disorder,
he might have set them straight,
lined them with the others
inside the closet.

Instead, they stayed there for days,
untouched by the bed’s edge—
left behind by a man with plans,
never knowing the sleep he took that night
would be his last.