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by James Barziel
Round and pointy, my wife hates them, having stepped on one too many going barefoot.
But I find them beautiful like the decorations Pop made at Christmas.
I’ve pressed and pulled to figure out how the thing is glued together. But a secret to tell you is there is no glue and no way to open a sweet gum ball without something blunt, heavy, and made of iron.
I carry them in my pocket, witches’ points and all, prizes taken from the floor of the woods.
And today when I picked one up, I found a tiny slug bent around a single burr better than any diamond in any ring.
Here’s the other secret to tell, I want to give this to you, my wife, my love.
I want to show you how sweet it glimmers when you hold it in your palm.