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My Grandmother's Ring_edited.jpg

My Grandmother's Ring

When I got married
she gave me her ring.


It always brought me luck, she said,
now it is yours.
You’ll pass it on to your granddaughter—
it needs to skip a generation.
You need luck when you are young.


It was her engagement ring,
1936 written next to a name I never met.
He died before the wedding, she said,
My mother says, we don’t know
if he really died.


When I got divorced
she didn’t claim the ring back
nor when she realized
grandchildren would never be.


I wear it every day.
I feel unfinished without it.


Did her fiancé really die?

Was I really married?

Who will be the granddaughter?
Who am I without her ring?


After she died I went to the casino
to play blackjack on her birthday. 

I lost. My luck was somewhere else.


When my own time has come,
just like her, I’ll be happy to have lived.
That’s good luck.
Then, the ring will find another finger.

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