My Own Ring
By March Brooker
I come with my own ring,
passed down through the years
by family crones.
Unknown
who wore the delicate thread of gold.
so thin, so old,
a whisper of tradition.
It sits on my right finger now,
just waiting to be placed on the left
by one gentle man
Who’s been waiting for a girl with a ring of her own.
Just come with your sweetness, and sparkle, and warmth.
Surround me in a peace that erases all thoughts of the wait.
I already have the ring.
I come fully assembled.
(Copyright @ 2008, with permission to republish)
March Brooker is the long-time friend of editor Krista Martinelli. They have many things in common – a Master’s degree in English, playwriting, teaching at Portland Community College in the past, overseeing people on parole as they pick up trash, and cat ownership (servitude).