Twinning by Meggie Royer

The boy twists the earring from his lobe in anger,

its small brilliance a dinosaur’s egg sunk in softness.

It departs sharply, the way it arrived,

leaving behind a bloody crust.

The long shadows of his shark paintings

cross the wall.

Boy as hammer, dressed like a necklace.

Swimming in a glass of water

the earring dives like a tooth,

his father waiting outside the room

with polish remover and cotton balls

for the pink still edging his nails.