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Thursday, November 11, 2010

Magpie Tales 40




The Medallion

The mystery may be better
than truth.     Her lips wore
the zig-zag stitches, secrets

untold. Wednesday nights
she took a eerie bronzen medallion
from a brushed velvet box
hung it about her neck and left
for a weekly women's social.

Butter and cucumber sandwiches,
crumpets, Egyptian Licorice Tea,
Moroccan Orange Spice,
and Redbush Chai.

Those Wednesday nights
belonged to her alone.
Dad never questioned

but we talked. We wondered
if they met to sharpen their knives
over shared husband stories

or maybe their bonds
were physical - touching on
what was then taboo to speak.




©2010 – Michael A. Wells – all rights reserved


        

9 comments:

Kristen Haskell said...

Woman do have their secrets. Your poem brings so many images to my mind as well as tastes.

Doctor FTSE said...

This is good! It's implications are cleverly kept below the surface of the words.
(Hope you don't mind my pointing out a typo in line 2? "Then" should surely be "Than")

kaykuala said...

Let the Fair Ladies have their moments, they deserve it. You did well to capture those moments in your poem. Great!

Helen said...

I want to be part of this group ... next Wednesday? Nicely done!

The Blog of Bee said...

Now that's an interesting read and leaves one wondering.......

Templeton's fury said...

oh, the sordid implications! love it

Anonymous said...

it is delightful to get together and sharpen our blades... love the atmosphere of this poem... cozy and warm... disturbing deuce

Tess Kincaid said...

Excuse me, ladies only in the Long Bar.

Reflections said...

Wednesday night coffee clutch... stories untold.