Alloy

My wrist
never wore this
band he gave me, buried
in Emma’s scarf with mementos
of times

before
and after him.
Jewelry like this is made
to look old. Two Hellenic figures
posed,

etched
on an alloy
pretending silver. The stone,
bezzeled lapis, rust-veined like
his eyes:

deep set
blue, flashing with
a cheap beauty. Pretenders to
the genuine and a trick
of the eye.

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