this is a poem to fill in that space in your ring 

where the gem stone fell out.
before that though
i want to be a shiny backed beetle 
crawling back & forth through 
the opening, feeling like
i'm traveling between times--
this portal. i want the opening
to be the front of my house,
no door, just a silver circle where 
a glinting rock used to be.
more than anything i love absences--
locations where something should be there.
this is how i feel on the train alone
i feel like something else should be there
whether it's you or myself
i'm not always sure. i'm not always there.
i'm often just like your ring--
a lovely setting but where is the stone?
i don't even remember where 
the stone fell out. i could re trace my steps
but my steps are old & not very useful.
we could fill it in with a seed
& wait for it to sprout into something--
a little flower from your finger
perking up towards the sun in the window.
we could use an ear plug-- 
one of the green ones my dad brings me
when i tell him that the world is 
too loud for me. i could fill
the space in with the sound of my saying
"i'm sorry" repeating in a coil 
not an echo by a spiral.
maybe an earring like the one i wear 
everyday to remind you 
of the strangeness of all earlobes. 
i could be smaller.
yes i could manage that.
i could be so small that i fit
in the ring's opening. put my hands
up to the ceiling & grip on.
i could teach my skin to glimmer
like the crystal that used to be there,
cut myself into wonderful angles
for light to take notice of.
if not me than maybe a tiny glass bird
or a photograph of the earth 
shrunken down to fit on a ring.
there are so many options.
i open the front door & i think to myself
i'm walking out of the hole 
in her ring
& somehow that makes the morning
feel real. 
i should find all your rings 
& knock the stones out.
a little graveyard of gems.
i want to watch you stand 
on of the openings on your own hand.
i believe we might only be
our true selves under that kind
of smallness. i buy microscopes 
for this occasion. we shrink down
& become neighbors 
on a hand-- just like we are now
walking in & out of doors 
in the same small home. 
i miss you.