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10 April 2009 @ 01:07 pm
First Draft of an Elegy  

They tucked her memory between
my names, a stone I was expected
to carry forward, to keep safe
—gleaming.  They gave me her
provenance to maintain.

“Diamonds are strong,”
Mom writes in sloping cursive.
“Wear it and remember.”
In my head she is soft and square-jawed,
dressed in an ill-fitting grandma suit. 
She is sick and smiling.
Dad shows me a picture and I see
an old woman I do not know.

“I hope you will cherish
this gift handed down from
Mimi to your grandmother
to me.”
Grandma gives me Mimi’s costume jewels,
all cracked plastic or tarnished metal—an allergic
reaction below the surface.  In my jewelry box,
it sits largely untouched, pulled out only for
Halloween or playing dress-up.

“Wear it and remember
how much I love you,”
Mom writes.
Mimi’s diamond gleams across my
mother’s neck.  Mom tells me, someday
it will be mine—a piece of my namesake
to carry.  A stone whose provenance I know.

Concrit Welcome

☆ you are jeff.backtograce on April 10th, 2009 05:18 pm (UTC)
I really liked this. Sadly, I have no concrit to suggest.