My wedding-ring lies in a basket
as if at the bottom of a well.
Nothing will come to fish it back up
and onto my finger again.
It lies among keys to abandoned houses,
nails waiting to be needed and hammered
into some wall,
telephone numbers with no names attached,
idle paperclips.
It can't be given away
for fear of bringing ill-luck.
It can't be sold
for the marriage was good in its own
time, though that time is gone.
Could some artificer beat into it bright stones,
transform it into a dazzling circlet
no one could take for solemn betrothal
or to make promisesliving will not let them keep?
Change it into a simple gift I could give in friendship?
