Diamonds

When she told me we
were ten grand in the hole
I wasn’t mad but I wondered
how it happened. Wouldn’t you?

She said when we decided to move
to Alaska she didn’t think we’d be
living among diamonds.  

But it was fancy panties too, from
Nordstrom in Anchorage, and
mail-order perfume, lizard-skin
watches from Swiss jewelers.

So we quarantined her cards, but she
still visited the diamond stores, my
classy wife of the Cartier Tank Francois.

I saw her once through the glass, the
diamond dealers fussing over Jesse, they
knew her by name– congratulations,
they liked to say.

And the woman I saw there, there
behind the glass, was not the woman I
lived with. She sparkled, that white glow
of confidence in her face, in her

posture, her hair, this what they
gave her, not I, the ruiner of the rocks who
gave her, not diamonds, but a glacier.