or, The Ring and the Bracelet
rapping against the table
the engraving is new, and the echoes, they linger
all over the air of the stable
the leather is tight from the bracelet that you
bought me when you went to Chicago
it's engraved with the words you never knew
but i told you what they were when you got home
alone in my room, where the light can't reach us
the leather is weighing down
we make love although no one would teach us
how to tangle ourselves on the ground
i took of the bracelet, you took off the ring
because it turned our bodies red
the bracelet fells off like the desk light's gleam
and tumbled behind the bed
time of ours passed, and the ring now sits
at the bottom of your garbage can
i found the bracelet on my mother's wrist
and i stole it like a wanted man
i'm wearing it now, i still pray for the sound
of the ring echoing in my apartment
i wonder if you picked it up off the ground
and burned away your resentment
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