“My love it came, my love it went…
So I plied and so I played
with brevity and breadth, I gauged with breath
and mined and moulded, and with my arms I then held it.
A big black rock. An average to large white rock. And a smaller yellow
rock… The economy of desire was measurable but not immutable
And with all that was left, bent gold around each cleft,
was shaped band and claws from a propeller lent.
Till threaded and golden gleamed this ring thrice revolving.
[Threaded, that is, to keep her mindful of the stone and of me.]
boxed and placed and presented and requested…
So now, she chooses which stone to wear – one for work and one for stares.
One for evenings and one for mournings. One for what ever she cares.
And now I too play this game of choice… to add another to the compliment
of raw precious diamonds; rough to remind my nights beforeher, and rare
as the days now empty.
Or, to take one away.”
Via Law from LaBurritaVieja.