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Those Are Pearls That Were Her Eyes
© by Åsa Pape

You were fifteen,
going on three,
they said.

You only just moved here,
and you liked cars,
they said.

But what possessed
you to go out
through that door, child?

Did you not feel the cold?

The news spread fast,
we searched
high and low,

until we found that
lonely track of bare feet
running through the snow.

And we will never know
what made you go
out on that ice, girl.

And we will never forget
the look on the officer’s
face as he called it a night.

And you stayed down there
alone until the
divers came back next morning.

Were you scared, little girl?

The freezing cold
and dazzling snow,
so cruel, when

you are fifteen, going on three,
and no one there to tell you,
put your boots and mittens on,

and stay away from deep dark waters.

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