My wedding-ring lies in a basket
as if at the bottom of a well.
Nothing will come to fish it back up
and onto my finger again.
&nb sp; &nbs p; It lies
among keys to abandoned houses,
nails waiting to be needed and hammered
into some wall,
telephone numbers with no names attached,
&nb sp; It can't be given away
for fear of bringing ill-luck.
&nb sp; It can't be sold
for the marriage was good in its own