Jewelry / by Britta Badour

I haven't had
any jewelry to wear
on my favourite
body parts as of late

My fingers feel naked
slippery and ache
without rings to accentuate
how young and healthy my hands move
sweeping across cupboards and into pockets
plucking coins for public transit
pinching and pressing pages of books
drenched in the waves of my Afro-frizzy fabulous puffs of hair

Now stolen, I miss the golden little bands that tucked me in
and embroidered me
I miss the compliments they’d get
I miss the pride
of exhibiting my interior design

I miss how dexterously I could allure myself
into a moment of amazement
by the mini mosaic aimlessly plastered
around my love-finger
Telling the world without saying a word:

I am loved

I miss supplying my eyes
supple stain-glassed and brass windows of lucid transportation   
Four (1-2-3-4) little finger trinkets
Transforming my thoughts from memory to imagination
from targets to unbound appreciation and gratitude
Grateful for every frostbitten night I am able
to fall asleep naturally
I miss having a heavyweight belt
buckle around my middle finger
making me feel undisputedly powerful 
walking home alone at night 

These rings that vanished mysteriously, 
they were more than just pretty things to look at
they were my armour 

a woman like me needs
a handful of ammo to feel at ease