Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Patination

Burnished with wear, the ring
Is pitted and tarnished: it sits
On the mantelpiece, no longer
Warmed by proximate blood;
The finger it encircled reduced
To fleshless bone.

Smelted, forged, wrought
And tempered, the ring retains
Its form on cooling. The fading
Of the heart's heat leaves
No shape memory.

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