April Diamonds
Engagement: Set in Stone by Lauren McBride
He once romanced me
with a candlelit dinner
and stroll under three alien moons
where the nights last thirty hours.
We saw others from our world
and many races new to us.
For our one-year-together anniversary,
he suggested flowers,
and bought tickets to a world
viewed only from a portal-room.
Under crystal clear skies,
glass leaves on viscous stems
bent in warm breezes
and flower petals shattered
into rainbows where they fell.
Today, while touring
a gas giant
he proposed
above a lake
of liquid diamond
lit by strobe-lightning.
Inside a claw-armed
atmo-skimmer, we fly
among diamonds suspended
in the sky where they form, until
too heavy, they fall like rain.
"Choose one," he says.
first appeared in Dreams and Nightmares 103
The King Who Grieved for a Diamond by Jacqueline Jules
Once upon a time,
a proud king treasured
a diamond as large as his fist.
He displayed it at banquets,
spent hours caressing
its crystalline brilliance.
Then one day, he noticed a scratch.
His flawless stone suddenly spoiled.
Consulting one expert after another,
he heard the same tragic news:
the blemish was too deep.
Neither skill nor polish could restore
previous perfection.
The monarch grieved, despondent,
until one young carver examined the scratch
to see the stem of a rose. It will take time,
the artist warned, but your treasure
can be mended, its beauty increased.
For weeks, the king awaited
the return of his precious gem,
flaw removed as if it had never been.
Instead, the diamond came back
with a flower in its face.
And the humbled king
grieved no more.
GONE MISSING by Lori Levy
Oh darling, oh diamond, from a shop in Jerusalem,
you have glittered between us for thirty-four years.
Can this really be true?—that you’ve slipped
from your circle of clasping prongs;
left me like this without any warning;
without so much as a scratch
of good-bye; nothing left behind
but a hole set in gold?
True, I’ve dragged you every day to the toilet, the trash,
swirled you over grease in my kitchen sink.
Did you, poor gem, feel neglected, devalued?
And finally grow tired of riding my finger?
Yearn for a setting unknown, untried?
Or have you been hurt? Banged and knocked out?
Perhaps you’re lying somewhere in dust and squalor,
a tight dark spot under or behind.
How can I replace you after all these years?
I miss you, jewel, and all I can do is
pray you’re resting in peace nearby,
maybe in a place where cookie crumbs gather
and quarters hide.
I smile like the emperor at my naked new ring—
just an empty space where you used to sit—
but I swear, dear diamond, your sparkle’s still here.
Previously published in "Unrequited: An Anthology of Love Poems about Inanimate Objects."
The Turban by Marilyn L. Taylor
For Penny P.
You look magnificent without your hair.
You look indomitable. Even proud
beneath the turquoise turban that you wear.
That turban doesn’t tolerate despair—
no whiffs of what you’d never say out loud,
no mourning for your fallen chestnut hair.
Instead, you’ve taken on a feisty air
that never fails to captivate the crowd—
just like that winking turban that you wear.
She’s bald! the turban cries. But you don’t care;
it seems that you’ve entirely disavowed
all myths that claim you’re less without your hair.
We see only your radiance up there,
more eloquent than kerchief, crown, or shroud,
out-glittering the turban that you wear—
which causes us to entertain a rare
surmise: something unearthly has endowed
you—and the turquoise turban that you wear—
with majesty. With or without your hair.
--Previously published in Verse-Virtual
Sparkling Shana by Joe Cottonwood
Shana learns young to raise herself.
To smile for survival.
Mom sings in LA nightclubs,
loves cats and gin and lunatic theories, also men
who stink of tobacco but pay the rent.
They don’t treat Shana kindly.
Mom has a plan to save the world
though she can’t explain except to Ronald Reagan
so Mom rides a bus from LA to the White House,
a call from the DC jail: You be good, Shana.
I’ll be back as soon as I can.
Shana rides in Grandad’s pickup across deserts
to Texas where she finds kindness and horses
until a pinto tosses her onto her spine.
Then Grandad’s new woman hisses : He’s mine.
Shana hitches to Frisco where she’s a bent flower
in bright clothing. With Texan good sense by day
she works as a secretary to a garbage company,
insurance benefit. Nights, it’s like a costume party.
Weekends, no costume at the beach
with killer weed and wearing a smile when
she meets a man on horseback who clicks. Like love.
He’s lacking in kindness but Shana follows for a year
until the drugs go crazy — his for fun, hers for pain.
He gets prison, big time. She gets
probation and a baby girl.
Two years on welfare, an insult but keeping clean
and with the innate wisdom of a survivor
she marries her chiropractor. Not love, not exactly,
not at first. No click. But it’s kindness.
Later, love.
Now she manages the office. Her back
has never felt better. In school the little girl blossoms,
grows tall, so smart. See Shana smile.
More often than we might think,
the grinding of the earth creates a diamond.
Lovely. Hard. Sometimes flawed.
And she sparkles.
First published in MOON Magazine
The Engagement by Rachael Ikins
No time for a diamond
only outlet-store rings, shaped nuggets of gold.
Three years in a drawer.
Our stolen cat, police climbing the bank on their bellies like SWAT
when your ex-wife suggested I open the apartment door,
promised she had no gun.
Who could believe this tire-slasher, the brick
thrown at our window, an explosion more honest.
Glass around our feet, a spray of diamonds,
your bleeding cheek.
There was no desire for a diamond,
only life. Your January birthday
chosen for our wedding long before
divorce’s nightmare faded.
***
Wednesday’s phone call.
You left the hospital, picked me up,
at lawyer’s office signed the papers.
Driving 690
on the way home
just us in our truck
you reached one hand for me.
“Will you marry me?”
Free to ask.
Yes and yes. Forever. I will.
Friday. Blizzard, one Syracuse remembers
still when listing the great storms.
Christopher next door shoveled our walk,
CNY’s plow fleet, the roads.
Against all odds at 7:30 under an arch of greens in our living room,
I became your wife.
My mother’s gown, sewn from my father’s silk parachute,
my small dog seated on the long train.
Luminarias along the path shivered sparkles.
We never bought a diamond—
life was all we wished for
but a field of them rippled and shone
around us that January night,
candle flames that danced
the warmth of our love
heated the night’s cold dreams
of the garden to blossom
come spring.
Ditch the Diamond, Dear by Sharon Waller Knutson
Drop it in a drawer and start dating,
advises the only smooth skinned
woman with a naked ring finger
at the Support Group for Widows.
Wedding rings wink from wrinkled
hands as we form a circle.
Not by choice, we joined this club
but we are not suddenly single.
We will always be married to our husbands
like our grandmothers, mothers
and aunts who all outlived their soulmates.
We will be buried in our wedding rings.
Diamonds Of April by Lynn White
Vera was an April baby,
a diamond,
though she never owned one,
never owned much at all
she left me my name
as her legacy.
She was Vera
so I
should be Lynn.
My mother liked things right
though she was more a fan of Bing
than the Forces Sweetheart.
Not everything can be explained!
She was not a forever diamond,
none of us are
and she did not get to meet
the diamond with me now,
his birthday coming soon,
but
I still have her legacy.
I always will.
A Pretend Birthday Party at the Beginning of Covid by Mary Ellen Talley
April 9, 2019
One day, a girl who was four turning five
woke up on a morning eyeing balloons festooned
with her name on a banner. She rubbed open her eyes.
Her dad said wake up girly girl, this is your day
& her mom snapped a photo although she’d
stayed up late frosting a pretty pink cake.
Her little brother ran to reach for ribbons
& her big sister painted a rainbow, no rain,
on a huge picture window while their dog barked.
Her big brother said okay I’ll give you one hug
& that’s all for today. Then her parents rolled out
a painted carpet of lupins & leaves down their driveway.
All of a sudden, her special friends jumped out of their cars
& skipped without tripping up to her house,
Blythe, Lilianna, & Amelie, arriving with ribbons.
As their parents chatted about this new virus, the girls
played castle games in the birthday girl’s bedroom
until big brother called them for “Pin the Sparkly Crown”
on a drawing of the five-year-old Queen. Big sister
spun kids around five times & soon there were crowns
on noses, toes, & elbows. The girls wiggled & giggled
until they stopped to sing Happy Birthday
with loud happy voices. The birthday girl leaned
forward to blow out flames of dancing pink candles.
She blew out all five & her dad cut slices of cake.
Mom gave out dainty donuts. Some had vanilla ice cream
& the birthday girl chose mint-chocolate chip ice cream.
Sure there were presents to open
& the birthday girl was excited, polite, & said thank you
as her little brother jumped in & out of the boxes.
The sun shining brightly onto the rainbow, it shone
through the window & the friends found tiny tiaras
for their dolls in the party bags & went home happy.
Later, the birthday girl watched “Dragons Race to the Edge”
with her family. They ate chicken nuggets, carrots & fruit salad
with bananas & apples & strawberries for dinner.
They’ll remember this day
because some of it was real
& all of it was special.
