It was a small earring, the first gift from a boyfriend.1995.
A unique, little pewter heart with three little freshwater pearls hanging from the bottom.
It fell from the dresser a few months ago
my mother’s dresser — so broad.
It can hold so much stuff, too much stuff;
this little heart with a broken clasp.
Where do these things go, these little objects?
Without a trace, in no crack or wedge
this little heart, these little white pearls wandering around in the universe.
I always think, “you are not lost, you are somewhere.”
And so I do the small work of letting go, a practice for the big ones.
“Goodbye little heart.”
"Goodbye three little pearls taken from the sea."
"You had to say goodbye once, too, didn’t you.”
“Goodbye last little dusty thread to said boyfriend.”
“Perhaps this is goodbye.”
