The Ruby on the Chain
Claire Smith
Claire Smith
My pants do not have pockets
But I don’t mind
I keep the only thing I need in my mediastinum
A small ruby
No bigger than a quarter
I give it a name
So the next time it pokes through my chest
Leaving me motionless and aggrieved
I will know who to curse when I find my voice
And finally scream
One day I will fall in love
And I will go to the jewellers
He will reach down my throat with a gloved hand and remove the stone Leaving a small scrape just below my lingual bone
And while I watch intently as he fastens it to a chain
A tiny piece of me on a string
I will swallow just to feel the burn
This is my language of love
Small things
Like the promise that when you grow tired
I will crack open your skull like pomegranate
And tune your old piano
And one day when you are old and restless You will fiddle with the ruby on the chain And I will ask you:
Love,
Is it not the most beautiful thing?
To wear my pain on your neck
And finally understand why I cut out my own heart?
But I don’t mind
I keep the only thing I need in my mediastinum
A small ruby
No bigger than a quarter
I give it a name
So the next time it pokes through my chest
Leaving me motionless and aggrieved
I will know who to curse when I find my voice
And finally scream
One day I will fall in love
And I will go to the jewellers
He will reach down my throat with a gloved hand and remove the stone Leaving a small scrape just below my lingual bone
And while I watch intently as he fastens it to a chain
A tiny piece of me on a string
I will swallow just to feel the burn
This is my language of love
Small things
Like the promise that when you grow tired
I will crack open your skull like pomegranate
And tune your old piano
And one day when you are old and restless You will fiddle with the ruby on the chain And I will ask you:
Love,
Is it not the most beautiful thing?
To wear my pain on your neck
And finally understand why I cut out my own heart?
//
Claire is a 16-year-old Canadian. She started writing poetry as a child to process feelings and experiences she felt no one would listen to. If she’s not at her desk writing, you’ll likely find her in the kitchen attempting to bake bread or enjoying the outdoors. You can find more of her work at: https://clairemariewrites.wordpress.com.
Claire is a 16-year-old Canadian. She started writing poetry as a child to process feelings and experiences she felt no one would listen to. If she’s not at her desk writing, you’ll likely find her in the kitchen attempting to bake bread or enjoying the outdoors. You can find more of her work at: https://clairemariewrites.wordpress.com.