Children's Shoes

Does anyone know the poem called 'red shoes' about a little girl who gets killed?

The little girl gets taken from her school and muredered and the murder was the school grounds kepper or something. He's done it more than once but only when it's gonna rain so all the evidence is washed away, but i think it's 10 years later it didn't rain and they caught him. The mother goes to his trial and then when he is sentenced she kills herself to be with her daughter. It's really sad. Can you please help me?

Public Comments

1. i don't know if this is it but.... They weren't ruby slippers dancing shoes, no magic in their stiff t-strap styling no matter how my mother tried to trick me into fairy tale believing they were red shoes no angels wanna wear, not on a bet, not on a dare, not even to save a soul they were fugly totally bugfuck butt-ugly creaky clunky stuck to my feet eight hours a day five days a week under the approving nods of I swear seventy three nuns who held the keys to my not quite heaven but damned close future self and i was such a good girl the smart one, just a little chubby with such a pretty face, just a little frizz to curls that defied braids and rubber bands that flat out refused to lie flat and do the long and silky thing, that screamed Shirley Temple in a Marcia Brady world. i was the one who sat in the corner with two desks between my test paper and everyone else's eyes, already singled out as the one who always knew the answer never did the crime and i was six and all i wanted was for once to break a rule without surprising everyone all i wanted was to trade my red shoes for Mary Lou McColgan's black patent leather Mary Janes.
2. Oh how tragic. Go to you local library website and search for it. Good luck.
3. idk google it
4. Sorry, but this is the only 'Red Shoes' I know. It is about 'the female experience' and a comment on the politics of suicide and survival. The Red Shoes By Anne Sexton I stand in the ring In the dead city And tie on the red shoes. Everything that was clam Is mine, the watch with an ant walking, The toes, lined up like dogs The stove long before it boils toads, The parlor, white in winter, long before flies, The doe lying down on the moss long before the bullet. I tie on the red shoes. They are not mine. They are my mother's. Her mother's before Handed down like an heirloom But hidden like shameful letters. The house and the street where they belong Are hidden and all the women, too, Are hidden. All those girls Who wore the red shoes, Each boarded a train that would not stop. Stations flew by like suitors and would not stop. They all danced like trout on the hook They were played with. They tore off their ears like safety pins. Their arms fell off them and became hats Their heads rolled off and sang down the street. And their feet---oh God, their feet in the market place--- Their feet, those two beetles, ran from the corner And then danced forth as if they were proud. Surely, people exclaimed, Surely they are mechanical. Otherwise… But the feet went on. The feet could not stop. They were wound up like a cobra that sees you. They were elastic pulling itself in two. They were islands during an earthquake. They were ships colliding and going down. Never mind you and me. They could not listen. They could not stop. What they did was the death dance. What they did would do them in. Copyright 1972 by Anne Sexton
5. It's been asked here before. I don't have the url because I closed the browser I can't find it again. *sigh* Anyways, everyone who seriously looked said the only print references they could find were the poem already featured here, and a book called "Red Shoes" which was erotica.... probably not what you were looking for. I'm not sure where you could find this. If might help if you posted where you heard of the poem.
6. Anne Sexton, and it is the revised term of Mark Wellington that ends with the girl dying.