Valentine’s Day

by April Coldsmith

I wait for the Mikimoto necklace

Swollen, milky-moon pearls

stretched lucent

A mother’s belly just before birth.

Beads nibble my neck

like kisses from you.

Or those diamond earrings,

pindrop hints in casual conversation:

“Can I zip you up?”

“Yes,” I turn and proclaim

“diamond earrings would look fabulous with this dress.”

I hope for square cut crystals

to catch the light

from my lobes.

My heart burns for a sapphire ring,

Oval shape embedded in diamonds,

blue orb surrounded by white iris,

I gaze into your eyes

with longing.

I could settle for a spa day gift coupon

Asian ladies press my feet,

paint my nails,

massage my skin until it

screams, passion for you.

But instead

you’ll waltz in with a

lone

   red

       rose

wrapped in cellophane

eclipsed by barren baby’s breath

studded with a waxy, fern leaf.

A red rose so perfect –

      free of blemish

      or scent –

it passes for plastic.

But you smile a broad strand

of Mikimoto Pearls,

A toothsome grin

dropped just below my neck

I try to be satisfied.

I really do.