Eyebright

Elsewhere, the days remove layers of doubt
The way new stars confirm our suspicion
That birth is what happens when we are out
Looking for answers. Light from the Pleistocene

Era illumines your eye in its tight fit
At the telescope. Briny little puffs
Of air from the shore leave your mouth
As stray marks of guiltless violence,

Air bleeding smoke into darkness,
Keeping you pure. It's the way bitterness

Cures. Exfoliation. Purge. Blank.
And we become Us, quick as a wink.
Sofabed. One cat. Double sink.

Copyright © 2003 Deanne Lundin All rights reserved
from Painted Bride Quarterly: Print Annual I
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission