by Kristina Marie Darling
She describes only the Norwegian variety, forgetting the French. Their intricate clasps and long
silver chains.
*
Again the milky-eyed beloved. Her sense of etiquette revealing itself as innate, machine-like. Would
compare her heart to a the inside of a clock. Its radium dials.
*
Here Friedrich's presentation of the necklace, with its glass bells and tiny silver flute, departs
significantly from Austrian custom. And still the luminous buttons on her shirt.
*
Now the locket as palimpsest. As Latin inscription.
*
When she opened the box, a dancer twirled to the same Tchaikovsky suite. A heap of charms and
unsightly pearl earrings.
*
If the artisan were to realize. Friedrich wandering the fields.
*
It was then she considered the array of miniatures. In all of them, a portrait. And each of these an
ode.
*
A circle of violets etched into the walls of the jewelry box. Only when she lifted its lid would the
gears in her heart begin to turn.