The spinning diva offers: "if you like it then you should have put a ring on it..."
or else what, I remember thinking--we should date someone else
or once there's a ring on it we'll belong to them?
I mean, I really didn't get it. After all, I didn't even get a proposal from you
I don't recall ever talking about marriage we just seemed
to think we'd be together: Typical Pisces-Scorpio
with trouble distinguishing where our bodies and destinies separated.
But we did say we didn't want diamonds mined from sorrow
so in other historical ruin, we turned to my grandmother's
wedding necklace that had been broken down into tiny necklaces
for her four daughters and then into earrings for many granddaughters
--the honor of this landscape retreats, struggles, is small
I haven't even worn that ring in years... it gets in my way.
Here--now: we're making dinner, my fingers slicing things and then
slipping, and the blood and the nick on my hand lose a battle
pain knots into a big bow of something sure to heal by tomorrow
it calls for the return of care, reduces your grand calling as a doctor:
to a childish charge... the blunt and careful binding of bandaids.
Then you're gone for two days but I wear this "disgusting" (our 14-year-old)
bandaid you wrapped around my finger, extending this trivial thing, wondering
about separation and affection had you only... put a ring on it.
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