The Truth About Pearls

Though Marcy was a shrewd and lovely girl

she never knew the truth about her dad.

She suspected, sure, as daughters do. Vlad,

her father’s oldest son, once joked, “That pearl

brooch he gave you on your Saint’s Day, you twirl

it through your hair like a charm to keep out bad

thoughts.” One day Marcy saw a paper ad

peddling a similar pearl brooch pin curl.

 

She walked the seven minutes from her home

to the store and asked to see the item.

Hard and trembling her fingertips brushed

against the wet curl on her head to comb

the treasure from her brow. She compared them:

the fake and the real, each grainy to the tooth.