The widow removes her wedding band,
easing its edge over thin knuckles,
holds in in her left palm,
with right index finger traces its circumference.

What, beyond this path, has no end?

Absence. The way she already
cannot remember his voice.

The perfection of zero is
what it cannot hold: their vows slip through
toward a depth she can't divine

Division by zero
is impossible -- a way
to keep things whole.

Tell me a secret, she says, holding the ring
at arm's length
framing the dumb face of the kitchen clock.
Its quick red hand jerks from dot to dot.

Multiply her loss by zero.

Am empty yellow raft bobs lazily on the open sea.

Luray Gross

"The Perfection of Zero" by Luray Gross, from her book The Perfection of Zeros
Copyright (C) 2004 WordTech Editions, Cincinnati, Ohio. Used with permission.