Precious Things Poem by Saran Dip

Pearls are dropping from my lips,
followed by rubies
and sapphires
and beautiful diamonds,
followed by chunks of gold
and silver
and poisonous platinum.

Precious things,
the fairy said,
precious things will fall from your lips
each time you go to speak.
Are my words not precious enough?
I said,
and six droplet pearls clattered to the ground.
I keep talking anyways,
talking until my voice is hoarse
because maybe the metals
and the gems will stop dropping
if I keep talking.
I talk fairytales,
I talk fantasy.

Somewhere around the twelve-hour mark,
the metal gets smaller and smaller
and I think that I might have done it.
But as soon as the metal stops,
other things start; a seashell at first,
and then a Polish coin that couldn't have been more than 50 cents.
At first I am thrilled because maybe my curse is over
but then I remember what the fairy said.

Precious things, she said,
and my mouth clicks shut
because at least before
I was only making money with my words
but now I'm just stealing precious things.
So I take a sip of water
and a sip of honey
and I go to bed and next morning I'm back to pearls.

I'm careful with my words now,
rationing them out like a man in the desert rations his water,
but as soon as I say that aloud
12 drops of water slip out of my mouth.