Imaginary rings

"I become a wounded animal when a man speaks to me."

I wear my rings as a symbol of who I am. 

They are from my dead grandmother so I will wear them even if they cut off my circulation,

they are from my best friend so of course I will wear them until they tarnish,

even after I crack them and use it as symbolism 

of how anxious I am 
and how deep the fear of everything which happens to me runs. 

The tap on my shoulder is the last thing I expect

and least of all from an old man sat behind me,

my instinctive reaction is ignore and continue to blast my music but something falters in me and I turn around. 

He says "Can I ask you a practical question?"

"Yes…okay" says I, 

"Your rings, one of them is on your ring finger…are you married?" he blurts out. 

I feel like laughing and yelling for all my ancestors who fought for my marriage rights! How dare he assume I am married just because I wear a ring on a random finger. For fucks sake it’s only because it’s the only finger it fits on you idi-. 

But I just say "Oh that’s so sweet of you and I wish, but no. It’s just where it fits and is comfortable". 

Will I ever be fully honest? I authenticity really that scary you coward? 

He continues to interview me on which rings I wear on each finger, why, and what each ring means to me. 

Oh. 

He really wants to know in a harmless way. 

My conditioning from years of male-induced trauma is showing. God. 

I begin to wonder towards the end of the conversation whether he is going to propose to someone soon. “Love is all around”? 

He apologises for asking such an “obscure question” and sits back. 

I leave the bus feeling clammy. 

All we really want is a 
connection. 

I become a wounded animal when a man speaks to me. 

- L.A.