Julie Dymon
Caveat to Mother’s Pearls
Coiled into a spiral, end dangling over
the edge of the dresser—the iridescent
strand.
My young hands reach
for its allure. Smooth round pearls, grasped
by knuckle dimpled fingers, click
across mahogany veneer. The strand feigns
limp innocence.
The cool choker slips around
her neck adapting to her warmth, leading
her towards her full length
image, framed.
Nascent self-esteem inter-
rupted. Each pearl emits
a different suggestion. Her wide green
eyes examine
her small framed reflection. Her face forms
a pout, mimicking her mother‘s mirrored
reactions. The strand recoils
neatly upon the dresser; content
to wait for the next moment
of inherited doubt.