Take My Advice. Stay Away From All

Purification In Fire. Public Cremation

For She Is My Love, And Other Women Are But Big Bodies Of Flame.

I Thought Of My Mother As Queen Christina, Cool And Sad, Eyes Trained On Some Distant Horizon. That Was Where She Belonged, In Furs And Palaces Of Rare Treasures, Fireplaces Large Enough To Roast A Reindeer, Ships Of Swedish Maple.

I Watched Her For A Long Time, Memorizing Her Shoulders, Her Long-legged Gait. This Was How Girls Left. They Packed Up Their Suitcases And Walked Away In High Heels. They Pretended They Weren't Crying, That It Wasn't The Worst Day Of Their Lives. That They Didn't Want Their Mothers To Come Running After Them, Begging Their Forgiveness, That They Wouldn't Have Gone Down On Their Knees And Thanked God If They Could Stay.

The Pearls Weren't Really White, They Were A Warm Oyster Beige, With Little Knots In Between So If They Broke, You Only Lost One. I Wished My Life Could Be Like That, Knotted Up So That Even If Something Broke, The Whole Thing Wouldn't Come Apart.