He removed her tiara
as the mirror crowed its surprise.
He pressed her head down
with a familiarity that had little to do
with the golden gaudy room.
She resisted for the pre-arranged moment,
the better to surrender her star,
to hear him growl her name,
his admiration of her bystander status,
as if it were by accident she followed
his instructions, the accidents
of their own choosing.
He watched the mirror watching them,
watched how she drew away
only to return at greater length
and slower depth each time she heard
her status and invented name.
A djinn’s finger wrote in red upon a card,
the word they’d settled on as key,
red letters pressed into the heavy, cream-
colored business card,
‘houndstooth’ clear before the close
and open of her eyes.