The Ring

She tells me to focus on the ring when he proposes 
Not the thin hands holding it
Fingers ink-stained, already absent
Knuckles puffing out and somewhere
The puzzle piece of a woman's face pushing in
Focus on the ring and not how the cologne around him is so strong
Dead fruit flies decay on his shoulder pads and flowers shrivel beside him
She tells me to focus on how the ring will feel around me, sturdy
Stronger than his arms will ever be
How the ring will protect me
In twenty years
Before I am too ugly to be ignored and after I am too pretty to be helped
It might find its home in a pawn shop two hundred miles from here
Traded for a taxi ride and a wad of cash and a few questions left unanswered
She tells me to focus on the ring because even if our love certainly won't be
The ring is pure
She tells me to focus on the ring because his mother's mother's mother's husband had it made
So she couldn't say no, not even a little bit
She tells me to focus on the ring
Because the ring is the best thing that'll happen to me
For a very, very long time