The Affair of the Necklace

by Miranda Gaw

Ruched satin stands

in shapes stiffer than the body.

I hear the corn husks rustling

beneath each shiny dress.

At night the trails of shooting

stars trace silver chains. Take

this ring of mine. Don't worry:

all its diamonds and rubies are paste.

Give it to you know who,

tell him I dreamt

that across the roulette table I looked up and saw

light streaming through the mesh of history. . . .

The crowds are restless and hungry.

Have them know

I would trade these gleaming heaps of strawberries and wine

for a taste of the crusts the peasants call cake.

I would give away all his kisses.

Miranda Gaw writes from Brooklyn. Her poems have appeared in Sybil's Garage, Goblin Fruit, Kaleidotrope, Cabinet des Fees, Sawbuck, and the Swarthmore Review.