rings

she washes her hands with her rings on

collecting green and blue hues

between her bruised knuckles

with logic she seems to refuse 

but i can't help but admire

how the tarnishing metal 

mirrors the seafoam green

that laps the shores of her dilated pupils

my fingers lie naked, unadorned

due to the strangling sensation 

of unwanted stimulation worn

cracked calluses accumulate 

between my webbed fingers like warnings 

she entertains herself by twiddling her thumbs 

rolling each ring off

placing it on a new numb

between rounds of exchange 

she spares the generosity of some change    

her horseshoe gallops around 

the neck of my middle finger

sterling silver that mocks my gold

i hold and twirl her around 

letting our differences linger       

while the faucet splashes and sings 

i baptize my own fingers 

decorated with her rings  

i am reminded how her lack of logic 

births beautiful things