Lotus Blossom

FOOL’S GOLD

My own eyes cannot reach
Where I fumble 
with the clasp.
And so, watching my frosted
Reflection in the vanity I
Battle to clip the fragile chain.

The metal, fool’s gold, 
I’ve been told,
Is cold on my skin, rubbing red
Against my neck until it hurts.
Constantly slipping from my nails
Where the clasp digs underneath.

Closing my eyes, it clips,
Too tight, too tight. As if a
Chain to keep a wild jaguar 
at bay.
Rolling the delicate pendant
Between my finger and my thumb.

Wearing the prize jewels of great queens,
I release the pendant 
and cast a witch’s spell.
Someone gave this to me. Perhaps a friend,
Probably my mother. She may have gotten it
From her mother too.

The rusting chain rests heavy over my skin.
And the fog lifts from the glass and I brush away
my hair. And I cannot decide 
if this chain
Brands me docile or strong.