A Poem by Richard King Perkins II
In the black vase. Beneath the
fourth stone of the patio walk.
Between leather-bound volumes
of Cervantes and Chaucer. In
the pocket of a tweed jacket
you forgot you ever wore. On
the ledge of the cuckoo clock.
At the bottom of the cedar chest
next to an ivory and pearl dress.
On the third finger of the left
hand where you placed it long ago.