Poem
AFTER THE DIVORCE
He took a knife to his ring finger
cut it like a carrot prepared for dinner, and
mailed it to his ex-wife
with the ring firmly in place,
like a bow on a present for Christmas morning.
And this begs us to ask:
are we like Magritte’s Lovers
touching without knowing while
hooded and blind to the truth,
that we aren’t who we say we are?
When we remove the mask,
we can either learn to love for the first time or
severe all attachments to
start anew.
Blind.
by Brian Cuzzolina
