The blue plastic eyecup
of my mote-ridden boyhood
still sits on the top shelf
behind the bathroom mirror,
at eye-level now.
I remember how good
cool tap water felt
after the hot tears,
tilting my head all
the way back & willing
my eyelid to open,
& afterwards feeling
the scar & the scare recede
from that bit of grit,
but also a lingering sense
of guilt for letting
all the water dribble
to the floor or sink, how
the eye that tried to take in
a small piece of the earth,
as if mere vision were
no longer enough,
had blinked away the offer
of additional tears—
had refused to drink.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Ab Ovo
- The Origin of the Exclamation Mark
- Screw
- Cursor
- Shark’s Tooth
- Acorns
- Book Match
- Toenail Paring
- That Button
- Stone
- Thorn
- Knots
- Knob
- Fulgurite
- Coin
- Sugar Pill
- Peach Pit
- Eyecup
- Asterisk
- Bullet Casing
- Nipple
- Indicator Light
- Salt Crystals
- Asterisk (videopoem)
- Fish Hook
- Oak Apple Gall
- Pearl
- A Thumbnail Taxonomy of Rivets
- Wingnut
- Baby Carrots
- Computer Chip
- Thimble
- Lentil
- Blastocyst