Carat, Cut, Color, Clarity
Angie Macri
In a morning of one-hundred suns,
in the long song of a mockingbird,
I changed from spring to fall.
I followed the lullaby: if not
a song, then a ring; if no shine,
then little baby, not a word.
I started in a diamond mine.
I gave the blood no mind
until I saw the oaks cleave
light between their lobes,
a ring no substitute for song,
and he never once sang to me.
Mama, no one can tell me hush.
Papa, I broke the looking glass.
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in the long song of a mockingbird,
I changed from spring to fall.
I followed the lullaby: if not
a song, then a ring; if no shine,
then little baby, not a word.
I started in a diamond mine.
I gave the blood no mind
until I saw the oaks cleave
light between their lobes,
a ring no substitute for song,
and he never once sang to me.
Mama, no one can tell me hush.
Papa, I broke the looking glass.
