Selected Poems
Bare naked ladies and blind man's bluff
Being a guest, she leads me to deepest parts of the cellar
weaving our way past chesterfields, basement bar in the family room,
past locked liquor cabinet and plastic baskets of laundry, on the floor by
and into a narrow workroom; to find the screwdriver.
Naomi hands me glasses to fix and walks away.
Finding it funny, she clicks off every last light to the basement
and scrambles up the steps, laughing. Leaving me to navigate
by a new moon and the sound of barenaked ladies, upstairs.
Beginning this bitter turn of blind man's bluff, with only echoes of my mistakes as clues.
I feel my way, trying to recall one time sights, right and left in passing.
My eyes adjust to two shades of black; intangible distant and possible painful
I was Naomi's age, five, when they first operated on my eyes.
This is a precursor, having been expected, but arriving too soon
the cross and end game that my life would be.
My eyes having been broken at birth will finally fail.
Now the last light fades, I find myself, alone in the dark.
With the only memory of the backs of my hands in front of my face
and bare naked ladies to guide me.
weaving our way past chesterfields, basement bar in the family room,
past locked liquor cabinet and plastic baskets of laundry, on the floor by
and into a narrow workroom; to find the screwdriver.
Naomi hands me glasses to fix and walks away.
Finding it funny, she clicks off every last light to the basement
and scrambles up the steps, laughing. Leaving me to navigate
by a new moon and the sound of barenaked ladies, upstairs.
Beginning this bitter turn of blind man's bluff, with only echoes of my mistakes as clues.
I feel my way, trying to recall one time sights, right and left in passing.
My eyes adjust to two shades of black; intangible distant and possible painful
I was Naomi's age, five, when they first operated on my eyes.
This is a precursor, having been expected, but arriving too soon
the cross and end game that my life would be.
My eyes having been broken at birth will finally fail.
Now the last light fades, I find myself, alone in the dark.
With the only memory of the backs of my hands in front of my face
and bare naked ladies to guide me.
