behind-the-veil-of-sanity:
Blurred Vision — A Remedy in One Act
The poet attempted an attribution,
in thought of love and praise
to the long and winding ways
of Medicine, but
addressing specifics — shivers
that arose without thought
like withdrawal
from nicotine sticks
or Absinthe – wormwood juice
lacked adhesion like old glue
left in limbo — only to portray
the poet a fool / addicted / frail;
addressing specifics — blurred vision
a general cause of concern &
the Cause of Concern for the poet
finding the general principles of sight
a bonus at their specific point in time:
the junction where tarmac ends
and gravel paths bind the journey’s end, blindness
avoided
— for now
by Dr Marvell and their
marvellous medical methods
aided by sharp surgical tools
making the cut
the ultrasound appliance
dissolving the opaque …
a silvery vacuum vortex
sucking up the dust
water
water
lots of water poured over the naked
unawares of what to come
unprotected
and by force held ajar
naked
unprotected
eye — the recipient
of the mint crystalline lens;
but the poet failed
to convey
in thought of love and praise
to the long and winding ways
of Medicine
as a single persistent utterance
interrupted
again and
again:
What if — it happens again.
But now, 24h on, the poet pictures the theatre,
in darkness, centerstage
on the theatre of mischief — a single giant eye
seeing nothing but blurred shadows;
a surgeon general wearing silverware:
sharp utensils / knives / fork / spoons
and a cleaning lady hoovering up
bits of old poet no longer needed
as the clown juggles stress balls —
an offering
taken.
The surgeon general dines on old eyes,
telling the poet he’s doing all right,
but the clown drops the ball
trying to keep the poet’s nerve
still — still a futile endeavour
on the second serving
of eye.
In the theatre of mischief
two eyes were consumed,
one poet entered
while another roamed alone
out of the nonemergency exit
into a world of bright light,
new possibilities in a world
with clear sight.
