Larry D. Thomas

THE RING

for K

It whirls the morning light

like brandy in a snifter

of fine crystal.  Of silver,

it’s pierced through the flesh

anchoring the follicles

of her right eyebrow,

dangling like the nose ring

of a teeny animal

as if to lead her eye

to every atom of the universe

and fasten it there

with a tether of gossamer.