Pink Synapses

I swallowed pink beads;

white feathers descended

out my nose.

My ears bejeweled with rubies;

my eyes but white truffles.

My skin as crinkly

as sparkly tissue paper.

***

When a train hit me,

it rained glitter across the sky.

***

I am the quicksand of pink beads;

I go where things stay below.

I am the cloud of white feathers;

I go where things stay above.

I'm also the crescent moon of rubies,

the snow-covered islands,

and the waving prairie grass

with its crinkly sonata.

Beads, feathers, rubies, truffles,

all wrapped in tissue paper:

a medley of gifts from a child

to her mother. She must think

I'm a raven who likes sparkly things.

Her gifts are wild,

unexpected,

surprisingly couture,

and screamingly sentimental.