I can’t see me in the mirror.
Oh, I can see white blobs that stand for beard
and hair, and something red that tells me I’m
still here. That’s it. Some odd refraction messing
with my sight. Or else the bathroom bulbs
are just too bright. But I can see most other
things alright, the insulin, syringes,
bottled pills, distinguished, like my family members,
by their height.
A gentle metaphor then, if I might:
My eyes no longer battle with the Light.
Accepting, they move on.

 
Forum Comments:Losing Sight
Image Credit:Elne'
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Jim Aitken was a veteran of Vietnam, colo-rectal cancer, three wives, two divorces, two MAs. Jim was a screenwriter and editor of Poetry Circle. He lived with his son, Joe, in Colorado, and died in 2016.

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