Watch

finding my mother’s watch

at the back of a drawer, a bulova

i’m guessing from the 60s, and i take issue with internet detractors;

nothing “suburban mall” about it

but understated, like the saint who wore it.   

i who have yearned for status

now have my mother’s watch.

the fit is perfection, nestling under the ridge of wrist bone like a lazy cat.

my god, when i consider the narrow band moving with her living pulse through her numbered days on earth;

the gold-toned stainless steel her affordable choice

for such profound luxury.