Jeweling

In the deep dark recesses of her curse, there lay everything she had.

She was an expert diver, but this had nothing to do with that. She opened her purse and she told her friend, “Look in here.”

He said, “What?” but he looked inside. He was used to acceding to certain commands.

She was showing him what he had given to her, where she had put his gift—how the thing was situated in the deep dark recesses of her purse.

Someone thought the object he had given her was an object beautiful to look at.

He had just given it to her, and that is where it had ended up being—for the time being.

He needed no special perspicacity to know that she meant, See how it looks in here, your thing in mine.

He is a friend in a clandestine, passionate arrange­ment.

He is mine.

It is my purse.

Now his gift is all mine, with its deep capacity for spectral light. It is as cold and as hard an object as is the love I receive from two men. It is so hard.

I believe in coincidence and providence.

I believe in these two men as I believe in my right hand and in my left hand equally, and in my two eyes, that they are equally mine, and in my ears, and in the two of everything for and on me.

Two created me thereof, in the beginning. Is it pre­cious? It took two to make me what I am.