yet what’s a girl to do?
my eyes are no longer the eyes through which I’ve seen
they vision elsewheres and othernesses I only dreamt of in my wildest imaginings. These eyes can not possibly be
the eyes through which I’ve seen for
they no longer allow in what I’ve seen the ache the pain the dirty the destitute no
longer there. These eyes see only-
and this is why they can not be mine eyes-
see only the ray of light that shines just after a squall
the light that seems to shoot to the earth from a place invisible behind the bright white fluff of thunder cloud after
it’s dropped its heavy dark cloak.