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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 19, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 19, 2010




She couldn’t find the heart
Shaped silver locket with her
Mother’s photo in it. She’d
Looked everywhere. She

Wondered if he’d sold it
As he had many of her
Treasured things, she found
Out later, after they’d parted.

It had been her mother’s final
Picture taken, like a last sacrament,
The last piece of bread changed
Into the Body of Christ and placed

Upon the tongue. She looked every
Place again where she’d looked
Before, pockets, boxes, even her
Underwear drawer where she’d

Kept some things out of his sight
(Although she suspected he’d
Looked even there moving his
Thieving fingers without concern

Or care). Her mother’s dead body
Which she’d found in the bath in
Chilled bloodied water drowned
Still came to mind, still played

In dreams, in her everyday each
Time she washed or bathed. She
Thought maybe he’d pawned it
For some extra cash to pay off

Debts or pay for drugs or booze.
The silver locket, heart shaped,
Her mother’s face looking out at
Her, the sad eyes, the pleading

Gaze. She searched high and
Low, in every place she could
Think, in wardrobes, chest of
Drawers, in old boxes, inside

Worn out shoes, even beneath
The kitchen sink, behind the
Pipes where she’d hidden things
From him in the last days. But no,

It wasn’t there, the heart shaped
Silver locket, with her mother’s
Final gaze looking sadly out,
Within it. Damn him for taking it.

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