writing

eyesight

eyesight

Colorless, the cat finds the arc of pointed feet
dancing a frozen ballet towards the wall
climbs towards the soft moon curve
of my belly and curls against me for sleep
all of this in utter darkness.

Open mouths inch along the green leaf
eager, hungry, greedy, until there is twig
and sloughed skin.
Silk trails left behind as proof
of crawling towards
metamorphosis.

The blind carve out a new darkness
a stick angling in front of them
rapping lightly, then beating, prodding
at the invisible barriers of their world.

Fighting and fucking look the same
sound the same without vision.
sometimes there is pleasure
mostly there is change
always there is release.
fire contained, fatigue
often follows.

I look now for this eyesight
which is not mine
slip from my skin
scale the leaf
to the edge of the forest
mouth wide
en pointe
stick in hand
to defend
and to define
the bounds.

~ Andrea E. Janda

Leave a Reply