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.