Ring Toss

Mary Nork




Careless of her yellow silk, she leans
against the concrete guard
of the Virginia Street Bridge
to fling what’s now of him, of them,
into the chill of the river.

For an instant its shape endures—
a child’s Frisbee
an inner tube,
a water stain,
a swan’s wary eye—
then into the sun-flecked foam.

Light,
gold, 
gone.