ManicDDaily

Ode To My Sore Eyes

If I could keep you
comfortable
in my palms
like St. Lucy
on a platter,
I’d wear gloves of water
that would cup you
in blue
as renewing as
morning’s true sky.

If I could keep you
cozy
in the moist squint
of my breasts,
I would slip you beneath
their lids
where you would sleep
till some long rest
had refreshed you
like the sight
of night’s lover.

Oh eyes,
there seems no soothing
your sharp burn.
Lke a hawk that plies
a talon ’round you,
it tries to prise you,
fly you where, mid-air, it would mock, perhaps,
our insufficiency,
or simply let you see for once
the big picture,
while me, I cling to you harder
than a child, than a mother,
holding you faster even
than that which keeps the “I” inside
the head,
no matter the pain of it.

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Here’s a draft ode to my chronically sore eyes inspired by Pablo Neruda’s many odes, and written for dVerse Poets Pub form for all hosted by Tony Maude. Check out Tony’s wonderful post and the great poems linked up.

The painting above is of St. Lucy, by Domenico Beccafumi, painted in 1521. No copyright infringement intended.