I have a certain fascination with both jewelry stores and men.


At the jewelry store
We consult
Like old ladies, older still
Over two trays
Of gems, turning them over
One by one.
I let my fingers linger
Wanting them all
Just two she decides
Pushing me away from the holy of holies
True confessions
The catholic school boys
In their uniforms
"Jewish boys are nice"
It's a promise never kept
Kisses from protestants, atheists
But that was long ago and far away
And the Jewish boys are nice
I let my fingers linger in their curls,
Noses, brown eyes, brown lives
So I pick two to have
Catholic blonde-red hair freckles
And the least of God's children
She is alarmed
She yells and screams
I will take, have, teach, grow
The least of them
There are wheelchair wheels stuck in my gut
I will love the least of these
An old friend, the jeweler wraps them up for me
Working over hushed beauty, dark jewels
At the jewelry store.

2006 Anne Westlund

Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 679 times
Written on 2006-10-12 at 09:46

Tags Metaphor 

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