By Tara Deal
Time to sift through their things, collecting nuggets to be traded in or hoarded, depending on how expensive gold is when we’re finished and do you remember the cocktail rings we used to covet, such small rubies and diamond chips of our grandmothers who never had nothing, that’s what they said, except for certain chains—necklaces, they meant—some box clasps and pins now unhinged so don’t even think about it: don’t break down and recycle, that is, replace every specific bracelet with something else that might connect.
Tara Deal is the author of the poetry chapbook Wander Luster (Finishing Line Press) and Palms Are Not Trees After All, winner of the 2007 Clay Reynolds Novella Prize from Texas Review Press. Her writings have been published by Alimentum, American Craft, Blip, failbetter, Fogged Clarity, Sugar House Review, andWest Branch, among others. And her shortest story can be found in Hint Fiction (Norton).