The woman in line at the coffee shop

wears a shark-tooth earring. Its jagged leaf

hooks back and forth on an inch of chain,

sharpness aimed away from her chopped

hair and acne-scarred face. It’s the right

place to touch her. I reach for its pendulum

dangling there, ask after its petrified origins.

It’s a tangible beginning, her leaning her ear

toward me. In this jeweled splurge,

I sense the beginning I’ve found with every lover.

The black-beaded choker dangling threads

of malachite over the stammer of raised veins.

The loose fitting ring when the setting turns

and a small amethyst eye gazes from her palm.

She tells a lie and her hand reaches for the lapis

bracelet, which she twists until the clasp is there,

fingernail snapping the release. Her tongue

drawing its barbell ring along my thigh,

hot bead flicking its own course at the light.

The intricate battle of the bent ear-wire catching

on my sweater, its stainless steel holds her head

to my chest, though we’ve finished kissing.

Her moonstone brooch clear and cloudy,

at once a way in or a way out.