Lady Isolde’s Bridal Collar spooky and the timid flee

and the timid flee

They drop where they stand

whose steed was no mere beast of flesh and bone

Or something older still — a rite played out behind silk and lace and shadow

Lady Isolde’s Bridal Collar spooky and the timid fleeIsolde does not sit still while her grandmother works. She turns her head slightly, watching in the mirror as the necklace is lifted from its wrapping, the small beads catching against one another with a faint, dry sound. It is lighter than it looks at first, until it settles then it holds its place, spreading across her shoulders in a way that feels decided. This one was not worn indoors, her grandmother says, fastening it with care. Not at first.