Divorcee (pericardium)

two years, now,

yesterday

I walked away

I wore my ring for one full year as a reminder

six months more 'cause I forgot

to take it off

it doesn't matter

the skin around that finger remembers

the iron band

Once, when I still wore a purely golden ring I caught it under

a meat slicer, twisted it into my finger until I could see

bright, white, bone;

then it healed

without blemish.

(it doesn't matter, I can still see my children)

The silver ring I wore on a chain around my neck

disappeared one Christmas eve four years ago,

a stainless steel ligature not in its place

but on my finger,

resting against my skin.

(it doesn't matter, 'cause I remember)

I do not wear a ring, now, but

yesterday (I remember)

I saw

it doesn't matter

the skin around that finger 
the space around my heart
remembers

the iron band

2010