Fine Tuning

Coiled.
Wrapped ring upon wring
(wrung out).
A spiral of savored secrets,
of hurts and sensitivities.

Remembering what it was like to
sprawl.

But now clenched,
held close,
a pearl at the center.

Oh, the silence.

A looseness
A ring of promise
and a ring to make the promise kept.

Though my belly swelled and carried a child,
the product of our kept promise,
and my breasts now swell to feed him

my fingers hold fast to their slender nature

Relaxed, unconstrained
by these, my vows
to love.

I sometimes forget
when I am wound tight,
chafing at the bindings,
that such discomfort is
self-inflicted,
not at all the fault
of our union.

As I did while laboring
to birth our love,
I need only
lessen the tension,
loosen the muscles,
take note of the metal and plastic that
respectively
respectfully
encircle my two
ring
fingers,

and breathe.

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