my pearls

They get tangled, my pearls
Six of them on the strand
That lay heavy around my neck
Each born of my flesh
But not mine at all.

The row never comes off
It is once more part of my flesh
At times worn raw by abrasion
I want to rip it from my neck,
But that would break me, my soul.

Constant, they lie sharp and beautiful
They slice if I don’t take care
They strangle while I sleep
Their sadness, rage—and worse—indifference, 
burns.

​I wake and they are cool and smooth--
Luminous in the light
More precious than my own heart
I reach my hand to my neck
And feel my blood course through.