My mother gave me
this small, silver necklace,
with a bluebird on
the front and my
initials on the back.
It was a really shiny
type of silver; I
only wore it on
the weekends because
the teachers complained
it drew focus away
from the lessons at hand-
it was, it was eye-catching,
pristine looking- hard to not stare at.
My mother, she placed
it around my neck- the necklace-
it fell just above my heart;
shiny, banging
against
my chest.
The weekends would race by,
each beginning the same:
Wake.
Eat.
Necklace!
Necklace on.
Eat.
Necklace off.
Sleep.
I suppose there really
wasn’t anything grand,
or poetic about
it-
it just felt as
if that-
the right way
to live;
the bluebird turling around
my neck; initials-
G d S
and the teachers scream-
TAKE THAT DAMN THING OFF
THAT’S NOT-
SCHOOL, EDUCATION, WE MUST-
learn to let things go,
before the beauty of them
becomes our only memory.
