He Keeps Asking Me to Look at Her Jewelry
  Amber Moore

He keeps asking me to look at her jewelry.
I’m supposed to like it, be grateful,
Maybe pass it along to my own future daughter even though
I hope I have a son. But I guess
He could wear the baubles as well. I’m progressive. Just like
My mother made me.
Dad says I could wear it on my wedding day or some other occasion that
She’ll miss.

It’s an eclectic mix of delicate, discoloured antique pieces and
Cheap costume jewelry;
Loud necklaces with large pink and blue “jewels”
That scream at you to pay attention.
Many missing stones and glass diamonds near the clasps.
There are a few newer ones, mostly the stuff Dad gave her for
Anniversaries, Valentine’s Days of their over thirty years together but
They’re all from the eighties, and ugly,
Like me.

When we sold the farm two years after she swallowed herself in
Extra dry white and denial.
Dad grew tired of asking his daughters to take the jewelry and
Offered the collection to the polite girlfriend of the Hollywood actor who
Bought our house, our memories.
That day he was already upset because this young man
With an attempted Jedi stare had already casually mentioned
That he planned on ripping up and redoing the floors Dad had spent hours
Refinishing by hand - a task he never got to when Mom was alive and I
Suspect that mixed with the layers of varnish he poured while listening to
Leonard Cohen on repeat are a few of the tears he never let us see.

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