Crossing

I let his harsh words drown in the olive density
of harbor waters, as the boat kicks off the pier.

My wedding ring twirls loose on its finger—
I could drop it overboard, like a coin, but I do not.

Bewildered, I roam the island.  A gull
hovering on an air current reminds me that

togetherness can be smooth, or it can be
as waves walloping rocky, stalwart shores.

After two solitary days, the mountains,
the little house, and the man wearing the ring,

start to draw over me like a tide, but there is no
crossing back.  No boat can carry me there.


*Note: This poem originally appeared in The Sierra Nevada College Review (print).