Poetry |
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By Sarah-Jane Parker
Submitted Dec 08, 2006 |
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A lady is never dressed without her pearls.
Little luminescent clots at each ear
That slip calcium crusted promises
With gulps of briny water
Into her pink nautilus ears;
And drown girlish giggles, now ill-befitting.
There is an ingrained expectation in their luster.
Two copperhead eyes crouched expectantly
With flicking tongues in their velvet bed,
Jewel-toned as the perfume of ripe peach orchards
Where girls part their nut-brown knees in summer
Slow and hesitant as an oyster smile
And glossy with sweat in a buzzing cloud of pollen and lost virtue.
These round pillars of alabaster decorum
Which would clasp her in place,
Overwhelm like the heavy stink of confederate jasmine,
Make her too ample for tree-limbed embrace,
Too fine for blackberry ink
Or thunderstorm waltzes in red clay slippers.
Under the siphon gaze of twin seraphim,
Honey dripped tresses and demure yeses
Clothe her exquisite form,
Layer by layer, silk, gauze, and lace
Pale as the silence of an empty crystal vase.
Until she is formed and spat out,
A globule, a lady, dressed to luminescent perfection.
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