The Ring - Version 3
 
 
I hunt frantically through the dusty box,
a mausoleum for once shiny things.
 
I find it in a tangle of broken glamour;
tarnished, tawdry.
In my open hand, the ring;
a whispered ghost of gold and smoky quartz.
 
Throw it away
he says.
I shake my head.
It was a present from my mother.
 
I feel the salt scrape my throat
as I remember what it cost.
 
A winter wearing open-toed shoes.
Worry over rent and arthritic bones.
Choking back pride;
selling her wedding ring
to bring me this emblem
of unconditional love.
 
I hold it to my lips.
It is priceless.


The Ring - Version 2 


I hunt frantically through the dusty box,
a mausoleum for once shiny things.
I find it there
in a tangle of broken glamour.
Tarnished, tawdry,
in my open hand lies the ring; 
a whispered ghost of gold and smoky quartz.
 
Throw it away
he says.

I shake my head.
It was a present from my mother.

I feel the salt scrape my throat
as I remember what it cost.

A winter wearing peek toed shoes.
Worry over rent and arthritic bones.
Choking back pride;
selling her wedding ring
to bring me this emblem
of unconditional love.
 
I hold it to my lips.
It is priceless.




The Ring


I hunt frantically through the rusty, dusty box,
a mausoleum for once shiny things
and I find it there
in a tangle of broken glamour.
Tarnished and tawdry,
the ring lies in my open hand. 
A trinket with
the ghost of a long lost smoky quartz.
 
Throw it away
he said.

I shook my head.
It was a present from my mother.

I feel the salt scrape my throat
as I remember what it cost.

A winter wearing peek toed shoes.
Worry over rent and arthritic bones.
Choking on pride while selling
her wedding rings
to bring me this emblem
of unconditional love.
 
I hold it to my lips.
It is priceless.