Final Decree

The ring with no solace hides in a drawer,
Remembering the tears that salted the wound
When "I do" became "I don't".

The finger with no ring is bare to the wind.
The callus grown over many years
Misses the weight that put it there.

The man with no wife twists the ring that isn't there,
Hollow-hearted, empty-eyed,
Staring at nothing.

The gun with no conscience waits by his hand.
There's a round in the chamber,
And the safety is off.

—Eugene
20 March 1996