B. Fulton Jennes
I Buy Earrings for My Dying Sister
Some would call the purchase foolish—
her birthday is months away—
but silver or glass? is my only indecision.
The silver pair are mirror-bright
and show my reflection upside-down—
a gray-haired woman I don’t know,
looking for a comfort that isn’t there
in the metal, or anywhere. I choose
the glass pair: simple squares,
with a grid of sure, straight lines
and one tiny dot of red on each,
a vanishing point on the horizon.