Pearls of death: a poem


The plastic curves, they pant

in tulle and diamonds bright

For kitchens gleaming of soapstone

Buying and baking and wasting.

It’s a water-soaked culture

and fear is a droplet of oil

so blend and buy and lust and smile

sail on past the wrinkled lines.

Sleep is hard and mean and honest

It forces waking from dreams of white

Drug it where it bleeds clean

Back to fluff and saccharine.

Freedom’s not a pinning board

Where all is neat and robin blue

It’s standing under columns wide

with open, dripping hearts

where sprinklers click click back and forth

Soaking the stilettos.

We’re all equal, she and I

The one who can’t get off the lines

The one who says she’ll finally get clean

The one who prays to Jesus.

In the waiting room of the psyche ward

or in the house of all that’s holy

Money’s no good here, my friends

Ain’t nobody cares about expensive shoes

or breakfast at tiffany’s.

Be gone, ye life of privilege

You fool me with your opulence

The rusty tin of jewels

Choking my neck whilst nearest death,


Rip off the pearls

photo credit:


  1. Amy Killen says:

    Oh my.

  2. Wow. I’d love to read more of your poetry.

  3. Oh, you know you’re speaking my language now, poetry. I am sending you an email friend. This is exquisite. Going back for a second read but you have a poet’s heart and this just sings. Wowa girl, another talent you have among your many.

  4. … a cause for pause

  5. Patti DeNucci says:

    Wow. Just wow.

    Patti DeNucci Sent from my iPhone

  6. I find myself reading this over and over.

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