Sport 32: Summer 2004
The first thing I saw
was the inside of my own head—I did not know
what darkness was, or how it felt.
After the unwrapping I became
connected to everything.
The world rushed up, cramming itself
inside my eye—but my eye
is a small thing, round like a sparrow's head,
slimy as a cut gherkin.
Light pecked at me.
Broken shapes and a series of flashes.
Dear Love, I woke this morning
in the middle of the bed.
Outside, light made squares and brackets
on the unswept leaves.
I sat in the front room
and was very disappointed.
Within a month the house
had lost much of its solidity.
Moths clustered, fierce as wrecking balls.
There was no paper anywhere and no sound of composition.