A History of Rings

Yesterday, I gave you another ring,

Found at the bottom of your ocean.

It is a ring from your country,

With five sparkling little diamonds,

Like the five years of our marriage.

Crows maunder on the side of the road

Five years ago, you lost a ring

In the South of France, during our honeymoon.
You used to put it on your toe,

It was your toe ring,

Someone said you finally got it back.

You are learning the epistemology of loss and abandoned car

In the West Australian desert, I gave you

My mother’s engagement ring,

Found in the crystallised salt

Of Lake Ballard, Menzies,

Among Anthony Gormley’s sculptures.

Oh the monotonous meanness of lust

Your wedding ring was also

Second hand, from the thirties,

Bought near Notre Dame.

We never knew

Who it belonged to.

The box is only temporary

The only new ring you got from me

Lost its wooden ornament.
It is a broken ring,

Unlike the one your brother gave you,

Or the one your brother’s ex-fiancée melted for you.

You are perpetual resurrection of them all

Yes—someone said you finally got it back,

The ring you lost in the South of France.

It shines on your finger surrounded

By other rings and other stories.

And someone else is wearing your ring.


About danielhszabo

I guess if I continue like this I'll be able to call myself a writer. For now I'm just an English literature and translation teacher in beautiful Brittany.
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1 Response to A History of Rings

  1. jacmich says:

    Oh my goodness! The poignancy, nostalgia and exquisite feeling expressed in this poem is so beautiful. Bravo.

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