Worn Ring

Peggy’s Prompt—worn ring—06/01/09

The worn ring circled my “ring” finger.
I often touched it unconsciously,
turning it round and round,
always in the same direction.

I did take it off, sometimes,
to keep from losing it or
from damaging it.

But mostly it was always there,
an artificial appendage
fraught with meaning,
hardly noticed in everyday life.

But now that it’s gone; its meaning
snuffed out by the judge’s gavel
and the notarized papers with
copies all around,

Now that it lives in a box
inside a box in a drawer,
instead of circling my finger,
I miss it.

I miss the sight of it, so predictable
I miss the feel of it, smooth and light,
filled with memories.

The white untanned circle of skin
on my finger is a flashing neon sign
to me and everyone else.
Not married, not married.