Retrobulbar

as though the lesion somewhere behind the bulb—
              optic nerve, optic chiasm, orbit
                      of fluid under bone—was a pearl
          rolling its weight behind and above my eye,
              there in the socket.
                                            Whenever I turn my gaze
    it rolls and shifts, digs a little hole.

              Clouds before that eye, swirl and haze.

I imagine it furious and beautiful, nesting there behind the eye.

              May my brown iris
                be replaced by milky pearl.
          (Those are pearls that were his eyes)
    Staring into the glass I prod the orbit,
            pry open the lids. Where is the stone?
      What must I remove to find it?

Copyright © 2009 Laurie Clements Lambeth All rights reserved
from Veil and Burn
University of Illinois Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission