Nikky Finney’s newest book of poems: “Head Off and Split” swept the poetry world, and landed the poetess on the cover of Poetry Magazine. It was even before the National Book Award for Finney made it official. Being a literary celebrity has it perks, which means you talk to the poet via her assistant now.  Still, since November 16^th, we have been walking on clouds, as our Lexington-based poet/professor rocked the National Book Award crowd with her acceptance speech, and we sat at the computers teary-eyed, moved to the marrow of our bones.  She had a dream that she delivered.

Eloquent and passionate; confident and brilliantly prepared for that moment, Finney engaged us morally and emotionally with it all: her writing, her voice, her persona delivering the spine-chilling speech with a gusto, and in style. Her tall frame dressed in black, long signature dreadlocks, round professorial glasses finished with velvety voice. “I am now officially speechless,” said Finney in conclusion to her generations-spanning 3-minute brovado.  And we all were. Speechless

It feels good walking on clouds trying on Nikky Finney’s shoes, no matter how big they are. But, my true object of envy with Finney is her poem, “Concerto no. 12. Condolezza Visits NYC (during hurricane season,)” telling the story of Condolezza Rice buying Ferragamo shoes during Katrina.

How skillfully Finney dances  putting on different shoes, starting with an eye-witness account of a shoe store clerk,   “We heard the news the Big water had/ broke loose, hit hard down South/ refused retreat. What we saw on the/ flicker screen sat us up on our soles, cross-toed, Mason Dixon style/ city heel arched, cracker barrel/ eyes crossed, struck, staring .//”

And how it moves with a lightness of a footwear when the object becomes heavy weight when stranded in natural disaster,” Alongside high-top work boots and K-mart/ house slippers (…) debutante satin/and new bride peau de soie. My Lord / the cross-mixing that was going on (…)/ Left shoe/ stranded forever from her Right.

Light and heavy, shallow and deep, gold and green; all at once.

And then the Secretary of State drops in to buy a pair of Ferragamos. “They marched straight to the back of the store/ knocking us off our stands and poking/ their secret hands down our satiny private parts./ From high in the stacks we watched her shoeless/ dillydally bringing up the rear. Oh! It was/her alright!//(…)  Right before leaving we heard her ask the manager, on the down low: Do you sell ice skates in my size?/ Imagine that, a woman of her perch and position, inquiring about the blade.//”

 "I practiced that speech all my life,” said Nikky Finney on December 7th at the Lyric Theatre tribute to Finney in Lexington. “I just had to make it below 3-minutes.”

 She did; walking away in  her poetic Ferragamo shoes.