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.