The Language of My Own Life

Wedding Work

On my finger is a ring
The ring finger of
my left hand
Under the ring
is a callous
made by wedding work
with a band

The work was the kind that
women do,
following dirt
into corners, pockets
Chasing the impossible

The work leaves my mind
like sheets on the line
The floors I’m afraid are
incorrigible. I play,
worry the callous made
by marrying work
and a ring

I think of the day
I slid through
that circle,
I consider the man
who gave me
the symbol

I question motives
because I am
modern, but
I listen
to him with
my hands

Man I say
You are honor-
able woman
you are wise
I turn my back
on the obvious

I speak the language
of my own life

Happy 9th anniversary my Love.

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