The Anklet

my sister's visit
to india begins
it. i asked for a sari,
but received
what would fit
in her pack.
silver. link
after link, bone
interlocked with
O. a blossom
of bells at the clasp.
months elapsed
before i dared
to wear it. finally,
the snaky spine
shining against
my skin. a tinkling
paces me when i
walk, brings
would-be lovers
to my feet.
the encircling gift
is a freedom:
the one leg chained
only to itself.

by Evie Shockley

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