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failing sight

Dayle Olson
My left eye performed poorly
at the eye exam yesterday.
It briefly got away with cheating,
until the doctor noticed.
That eye is accustomed to loafing,
using its cataract like a free pass.
It saw the letters on the wall,
yawned, told the optic nerve
beat it,
nothing to see here.
I covered my right eye and read F-U-C-K,
my voice confident and clear.
My pupils,
innocent of any crime
were made to submit to drops
and dilate
until the unholy beam of light
pierced the cloudy lens.
Nowhere to hide, lefty.
The jig’s up.
Seven weeks
then it’s the chair (and scalpel) for you.
Those eye chart fun and games are over.
You can blink tears all day long
and it won’t change a thing.
Like it or not,
you’re going to 20/20 land.​
Picture
Hannah Rose | Drowning | Digital Painting

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