Beauty for Ashes Poetry Review

Ruth E Foley

The Jeweler

Worlds are altered rather than destroyed --Democritus

I cannot sit still. I measure out the

edges of the room with unshod feet, one

step at a time, count until I do not

know the right numbers. Then I start again.

I have reached one for the fourth time when I

open the door, start counting the steps to

the kitchen in my head as I move in

closer and closer to the sounds slipping

around the doorframe. It is a dying

whale, my father’s grief, every carat of

glowing stone balanced high upon his head

until he cannot break the surface for

air. He has bracelets wrapped around his feet

and hands, necklaces over his collar,

china and silver and pewter strapped to

his back. When he can finally struggle

to the top, he takes in a long, howling

breath and lets it out again as he dives,

bubbles streaming from his nose and silent

screaming mouth. He has lost the store, needs to

be alone, is too alone already.

He cannot feel my mother’s hands on him,

cannot hear my voice, cannot feel or hear

anything but the salt water filling

his mouth, eyes, nose, throat, swallowing him whole.

Ruth E Foley teaches adult literacy for a nonprofit organization in Massachuetts. Her work is online at A Small Garlic Press. She has also appeared in or is forthcoming from the Chariton Review, Potpouri, and Cider Press.

Isaiah 61:1-3

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