Habit

The nearly-ex
husband has gotten
used to fidgeting
with his ring.

It left a smooth
loop of soft skin
around one finger of
his worker’s hands.

He won’t keep it.
He has a daughter,
and photographs should
he ever want to remember.

Still, there ought to be
a kind of ring that means
nothing, one
you can still

twist with your
thumb and not
invoke the ghosts of
any old promises.