Pearls – Iman Hariri-Kia

Inspired by Cape Cod Morning by Edward Hopper


Her house linens were white
Virginal, untouched
Engulfing the kitchen table.
When he was at the club
She’d kick off her pumps
And toast a piece of bread
Eating it without a plate.

Each crumb created a ripple
On the cloth.
She could hear them falling
Creating a ‘thud’ as they hit
Trespassing, imposing
On her life, and well, the linen.

When she stood up she swore
She was a few pounds heavier.
Her body was a paperweight
Practical, dedicated
To keeping others firmly
On the ground.

When she yelled at the window
Two images replied.
The sun, radiant
The trees from the
Other side where the grass is
always greener.
Then there was the middle aged woman
Dressed in her Sunday best.
Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes
And grays amongst her blonde hairs.

Shit. Where the fuck are my pearls.

So she rung them ‘round her neck.
The weather in Cape Cod was beautiful
That summer.


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