Pendulum

Annette, here’s my attempt at an “object” poem. I am not sure about the title. It seemed better than “Beaded Earring.”

The jewelry began
after the diagnosis.
At first, a dangle
of straightforward
bead, bead, bead —
emerald, aquamarine,
agate — sharply faceted
like cheekbones,
a shine
too gold,
scalloped spacers,
extravagant hook of
earring wire,
single loop.
My radioactive
sister touches
my ear.
She guides
the wires
into the holes
of my lobes.
The earrings
pendulum
the windowlight.
They bring out
the green of my
dread.