At long last the right eye
can see dazzling light.
Differentiate green clouds of leaves, 
now a tree as itself.
I suddenly want to read
700 pages of non-fiction.

I went to the cataract factory,
where miles of faded green plaid curtains
separate all of us waiting,
wearing blue paper hairnets,
drugged and told to look
at the white light.
After what seems like the blink of an eye,
wheelchair bound,
returned to our driver, 
–who we barely recognize–
a son, a daughter, a spouse, a friend– 
wait so I have friends? Kids? A Lover?!

Today, half my life is almost perfect.
There is a black swirl of smoke,
a smudge, an ocean wave,
ebbs and flows, moments of clarity.