Eyes

 

My eyes are no longer mine.

When I go searching for them, I can’t find them.

When I find them, I can’t recognize them.

Now I’m seeing things I haven’t seen before.

Now I’m dreaming dreams I haven’t dreamt before.

 

Sweet is the burden on my face.

The burden of new eyes.

It’s frightening to walk around with my new eyes

on the same face.

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A writer dances

upon a written poem –

the victory dance!