Rochelle Jewel Shapiro
ON MY ENCROACHING BLINDNESS
(after Milton)
When the light no longer governs shadow
And darkness splatters like flung ink,
And I blink against floating gray zeppelins,
My brain hustles to clear sight’s grimy window.
On the page, letters blur, ripple, and buckle.
Beneath my feet, sidewalks seem to sink.
Bricks lose their edges; walls warp and billow.
In half-dark, images break into pixels
Like a TV on the fritz or a Seurat.
Sleep, and night may be tomorrow’s day.
As I inch toward blindness’s brink,
Pain like glass beneath my lids,
The egret walks on its backward knees,
And I listen to the sweetness of the rain.
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