After Amanda's Poem

To Nurture

My mother keeps
my baby teeth
hidden in her jewelry box,
pearls nestled in soft tongues of velvet.

After Amanda's Poem: To Nurture

I used to peer over the edge,
my nostrils picking up the scent
from the dresser's gloss.
I would walk across the room
until I saw my reflection
in the mirror, that hung on the wall
above the caramel paneled drawers.
On my toes, with my hand stretched,
I fingered jewelry boxes and perfumes.

I look down at the chipped gloss,
run my fingertips over what still shines.
I lift my eyes to the mirror
that seems to betray my image,
I'm either too wide or unproportioned.
My ears stick out too far from my head
or the lobes hang too low.
The caramel paneling has abandoned me,
adding a yellow hue to my pale complexion.

In the jewelry box
left by my mother,
when it seemed that she left us,
hidden among folds of velvet
were the pearls of my youth.