blue and black

Your aunt made

a ceramic bowl

and painted it

blue and black.

It’s edges were rough

and uneven but it

still held whatever we

put in it no

matter the smallness of

the thing. I look inside

now and see two rings.

Two rings. They sit and

collide on smooth cold edges,

frictionless metal, soft and ungilded.

No longer guilted

on thinned

fingers.