Blind
hydronitro
oxycarbo
calciphospho
light wound ’round me
small hands pick and choose
fingers bust through scar tissues
all in time it’s growing
harder to miss (being) you
sky blue
’til the bigger picture came into view
now I see the feathers of the world
as I am tarred by rue.
4 thoughts on "Blind"
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This is music, sir.
The internal rhyme and lineation and freefall through the piece is powerful.
i like all the question marks!
I like the growth experienced in this poem along with the wistfulness of the scenery, well done!
I get the title. A blind person can’t see what they are typing.