Yellow Shoes

My shadow plays accordion
with thin red gloves, chess
in the altogether, writes
poetry in sand, letters on birch bark;
she wears Brunswick green-
sings off key while climbing
steep hills with sacks of cherries
on her back; she eats sardines,
garlic sandwiches
and omelettes with a plum-
On moonless Tuesdays my shadow
fills a light blue pick-up with wild abalone shells
for mulching opaque gardens at midnight; cut feet
and bleeding knees are for me; my shadow
wears yellow shoes and doesn't fall.