Perilous
pearls
rest upon my collarbones
strangling me, exposed,
a pearl for each torment,
a pearl for each moment
that my faith escaped me;
falling to the floor, rolling
into corners, spilling across
hard wood floors, finding the
places to hide in my darkness
Perilous pearls,
milky against my skin, opalescent,
unassuming; virginal innocence,
toying memories,
my silly naiveté,
unprotected values
sold out to the savvy
these innocuous little beads
my perilous pearls
ripped from a throat
now naked and bare
© Brenda-Lee Ranta
Excerpt from the book Heart Sounds
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