I grabbed Mary-Jane’s earrings in the movie theatre,
Unfastened them in the Hayley Mills light
The land of strange people’s chairs.
She stands by her lover’s bedroom lamp
Trying to be graceful
When the cheap backings drop.
Later, she betrays me, acting as if she’d
Never known me. Married rich
As if she’d never shoplifted.
On the subway, older, I saw
Her cradle her child’s baby
The toddler wears a knit hat and golden posts
That glint. Tiny hands move upwards, hypnotized,
Touching her naked ears
Which hear nothing but ancient, urgent, whispers.