In memory of my mother 8/9/48 – 3/11/2007

My brush caught the clasp on your strand of pearls  
In a frozen moment I imagined them               
dropping down the open drain one by one               

But the clasp held and I recalled
that pearls are knotted each by each,
carefully slid down the strand by hand     

Unless the whole necklace is lost, each pearl is safe.
I thought of you and the pale nape of your neck 
 your hand pulling up strands
escaping your long and graceful hairline.