Ruby Gold Ring

The ruby gold ring that my Grandmother wore and the teeth that she took out at night,
and that orange fluffy cat that would purr round my legs on the porch with my hair permed up tight.
These thoughts are crocheted like the dresses she made for that drawer full of small plastic dolls
in her house I recall, with that angel food smell, and the brown panneled wood on the walls.
And there was an attic with boxes and dust and with rafters too fragile to climb.
but all it contained even then had decayed,
every news clipping ravaged by time.
 How quick we dismiss the details we most miss from a life twenty years out of sight,
But I still remember the ruby she wore, and the teeth that she took out each night.

Ours

Last night, you left the nozzle on;
the busted one out front?
Sometimes we turn it barely on
and can't quite turn it off.
So I have put a bucket there
right under where it's dripping,
and I will leave another near the gate
that can't quite shut.
Some rust is on it's handle
near the clasp and where we swing it,
some rust that browns the mystery
of water mixed with time.
These clank and drip details
that wrap their way
'round how to get here,
and don't forget the pigeon scratch
and tractor in the yard.

Tonight the Sky

Tonight, the sky was lavender,
as violet as my dreams.
As purple as my love for you,
and deepening, it seems
impossible.  The darkening
that hid us here from view.
Impossible that it could grow,
but still it grew and grew,
even down on this Earth so cold
it seeps into our bones,
where we have wandered longingly,
now finally not alone.
I don't just wonder at this bond,
deeper than words can tell,
reflected in clouds above;
but that I loved you well.