An engagement present from my husband’s parents.
Shoved in a drawer like small eggs waiting to hatch,
forgotten. They seemed like something in a high school
photograph. I’d have preferred a large wrought iron pendant,
beads that caught the sun. Pearls were for them
Some of it I’ve
given away, I guess that
comes from thinking
nobody could
want it.
Fat. Something you
take in and just
can’t use.
It hangs around
reminding you of what
wasn’t totally
digested, a layer of heavy
water, grease
Half of them
cough, the one
with the limp wittily
grunts towards me
you remind me of
Theda Bara, a distant
relative I blush be
cause it’s true.
Already
his eyes are
full of no.
Smoke boils up from the
table, the scraped faces
freeze on me until I
wish I hadn’t come
like an even craggier
Lincoln, your impressions
the next 4 days, details
of a walk across campus.
Even now I remember I
wore a strawberry wool
skirt, matching sweater.
There was bittersweet
near the Hall of Language.