Kitchen Table MFA (Madwomen): Rings
Words By Sarah Williams-Devereux, Art By Tomislav Jakupec
This poem is part of the Kitchen Table MFA, a series that showcases writing communities through interviews and creative writing.
The rings I wear now are not the rings I promised with.
My first ring with my husband: thin band, rose-cut diamond,
his great-aunt’s solitaire, stone slightly loose,
mauve jewelry box snuck from a drawer, a little tarnished.
The second, a 10k band shipped from Ireland,
sterling silver for him, Newgrange spirals around it,
edges not quite meeting in the center,
blessed by our Episcopalian officiant and my Buddhist father.
Sterling silver was the third, to replace the engagement ring,
too delicate for my rough hands, a sturdy band
with a 9k dot on top and words stamped on the side:
you, me, being, what he said in our wedding bed
when I asked what was important.
Fourth, a sterling Newgrange ring,
shipped from the U.S. this time,
when my fingers grew too fat for my gold one,
now in a box on my dresser. Fifth was a white opal band to match,
rainbows catching in the light when I wash my hands.
These are not the rings I promised with, but they are the ones I chose.
This is how my promise changed,
from something delicate and fine to something hard and sturdy,
the way a hammer gets stronger the more it is struck,
ready for anything as long as there is
someone to hold it fast and use it well.