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An Artesian Had Done Well
Older lady with face of a ninety-year old
Wore a bejeweled spider on her lapel
It was striking, many commented
Others seemed to not notice
How you could not notice, I do not know
She was a tiny woman, weighing seventy pounds
Two of it was from the spider brooch
It was her inheritance someone whispered.
I was not sure what they meant.
Her only inheritance?
Her favorite inheritance?
From her parents or from a man?
I did not know her well enough to ask.
But I stared at it for a long time.
This spider was an undisputed beauty.
An artesian had done well.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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