I was in a small, open-roofed room,

or so I guess, from what I overheard,

but now I’m not, and I don’t know

if I’m in another place to escape from,

or if this bigger space is freedom.

Those are only words that seem to be

related, but with so many definitions

for the blind child in me to sort and select.

 

(after the 1961 photograph, “Blind Boy at Wall,” by Charles Harbutt)