— Barbara Saxton
It shouldn’t have been willed to me. I’m not
an emerald and baguette diamond girl;
I’m set in steel, not platinum.
Technically a dinner ring, we knew it
as a form of circular apology
for cocktail hour abuse; payment in advance
for dessert wines served
with purple bruises.
For twenty-three long years,
I kept it tucked away in an emotionally
But my sister’s house needs a new roof,
and something good should finally come
of all that ostentatious glinting.
Before I left the jewelry store, I kissed the gems
that once adorned a hand now far beyond
her daughter’s loving grasp.