My mother passed down
your 18 carat pinky ring.
An heirloom showpiece.
Thick-built manly thing
boasting a square-cut garnet
that crowned dead center.
But I sold the gold
to an old fogey
at a curio shop.
He pressed and pushed
his thumb clean through
the rear end
until the gem broke free.
Then dropped
your popped cherry
in my palm for keeps.
What do you think?