Poetry
The Necklace
The Necklace
that I wore a necklace made of
beads
of your honors on a mantle, and
beads
of more baby’s born oh
beads
of sweat on a humid night
your hands (God I miss them) holding my hips down,
us
blessing the folds of the thickened
summer pavilion
lightning bugs bouncing all around
that I still feel the coolness and weight of these stones
against my collarbone
these phantom pains
of a…