ERIN M. BERTRAM
[SUDDEN, AS A BEATING OF WINGS]
Bracelet, ringlet of luck & love. No—
more, &, at once, so much
less. Listen, I am trying
to tell you something,
some burnished truth hewn from
a quarry, nearby,
a pasture.
Not craftsmanship of lapidary,
no lapis lazuli, diamond-
cut, engraved. Hardly.
Its decorative abrasions,
composition in metal
& leather, adorning band, cornice
ensconcing skin just north of the hand,
the body’s smoother
side. Leather, I am reminded,
when worn, creaks. It creaks.
Carriage wheel approaching violent
snap, harness good &—
yes—snug. Admire the finery
in the simple braid, the labyrinthial effect
on surrounding air. Perhaps this
time. The snaps, like so, adjust.
They adjust.