Taylor Graham One Of a Pair In the ER, I consider the single foot. My fellow survivors wear two paired shoes apiece; one's in slippers, another in mismatched socks. All morning I've run these inventories in my mind, since three a.m. when you slid down my hung-up winter-coat, grasping at more support than a wardrobe can bear; since you collapsed without explaining, and the guys in dark uniforms and say-nothing/seen- it-all faces hoisted you up barefoot and bore you away under lights. Who worries what happens to a shoe without its mate? Cross my feet at the ankles. A monitor displays the paired pressure, systolic/diastolic, of the heart pumping blood through your life/mine.

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