Anniversary

Walking by the jewelry store

I glance in the window and see

the perfect pink ring and earrings

she would love.

Earrings: a slight dangle of gold

and silver ending in dazzling pink.

The ring — unique, asymmetrical, offset,

nonconforming – like her, like what

she loves most, the androgynous,

the oxymoron, the funny Valentine.

Only now it’s time for our anniversary

and I want so badly to buy them.

I stand there staring. I picture her smile,

how she would look in the mirror,

how her eyes would dance and

glance at me to say she loved them

and where in the world did I find them.

And I would stammer to answer

because I would have left her alone,

escaped the constant chatter,

the blaring TV, her neediness

and walked to town.

And so now I make my way home

where the quiet is overwhelming,

where her picture hangs on the wall,

and the scent of her funeral roses

still permeates the air.