The day he gave me glasses
I was seeing fine.
(except I had to pull the corner of my eye
to see the writing on the board)
But that was good enough for me—
(I knew so well the soft warm fuzz
of trees and grass and houses up the street)—
“And what will everybody say!”
I sat back, sullen, in the office chair,
And said farewell to friends and dates
and future jobs;
For with the press of plastic on my nose
I feared I’d never be the same again.
Perhaps I hesitate as well,
content with twilight,
who once pressed clay and spittle to the blind,
Fits me with Spirit to my mortal eye
to form a retina of Light
that is a seer-stone of the world.
For, having seen the heavens,
I well know
That I can never be the same again.