Sentinel
Poetry (Online) #36 – November 2005 Online Magazine Monthly…since
December 2002. ISSN 1479-425X
Rob Mclennan
blindness: seven poems for kate
“I want to give
everything to this burnt flower: I’ve nothing;
I bury my face; set it in water.”
-- John Thompson, Stiltjack
“Optometry begins
with an I.”
-- Jason Christie
this is not an explanation, but
a small degree
when crossing the street, looks left, & then
not as left
would you mind if i revised
my statement, thing
it doesnt matter if you can ride
your bicycle
leans to one side, just like
her mother
after the optician, now
we follow
II
some light & some shapes, but
little more
on the darker side
of her
one half of her signature
scarred
not that it seems
to bother
more us
than her
both shaken
& stirred
but then her other, what since
long improved
the border she stops at
further abroad
III
where does she walk, favouring
one side
a distance that goes further
into detail
what she would have lost,
just yesterday
the rain erases snow
from her backyard
the sun on her forearm
a hard knock rings
her kitchen window
this is the sheetmusic
of her youth
IV
forget her comments abt
peg-leg, or patch
my child
blind in one eye, & drunk
on chocolate
would she drive me around
when im eighty
her mother says, you wont
live that long
we pick
at last nights food
we look out
over long communion
V
looks good, in new blue glasses
unknown where the scratch came, fall
or something viral
all ahead me now, begins
to slowly fade
my age, by decreasing inch
where blood mixes thick
w/ saliva
what chance did she have, genetics
can be cruel
a stretch of grey
thick dark hair & a penchant
for oddities
VI
she says: what do you know, yr
too old
or was that me
& shes too young, for
consequences
rolling her eyes at what,
a mere suggestion
suddenly, the sheer confidence
of youth
& glasses match, her new
blue coat
what she has come thru
so far
VII
this is a darkness
that conveys a sense
of certain light, a thing
in recent memory
a colour that translates
a shape against the skin
or rightness, when remembered
w/ some
into the descriptiveness
of seeing
what had not been there
before
April ‘02
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