My mother’s rings           

by Nina Rubinstein Alonso

Three rings on her hands

one gold two silver maybe sleeping

when someone slipped them off

doesn’t know what happened

maybe coaxed away during a bath  

by fake-helpful soapy fingers

simple as children blowing bubbles

but now her hands remember

feel empty and wrong without rings

mom gazes down finds

no gold no silver no mist

of memory no suspicious breeze  

while I check blank faces of aides

tucking clean sheets on an empty bed

preparing for the next worn out body 

their white uniforms have

slim pockets where swift fingers

might hide an old lady’s rings but

my complaint brings stiff denials

officially polished lies about

the whole shitty disgusting business.

* * * * *

Nina Rubinstein Alonso’s work appeared in Ploughshares, The New Yorker, The New Boston Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Ibbetson Street, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Southern Women’s Review, Black Poppy Review, Tears and Laughter, etc. David Godine Press published her book This Body, and her chapbook Riot Wake is upcoming from Červená Barva Press. She taught at Boston Ballet, directs Fresh Pond Ballet School and practices raja yoga meditation (sahajmarg.org).