Red azaleas flutter in the window box.
The telephone receiver, a cold weight.
His voice distant,
as it traveled —
They need to glue my eyes back.
My retinas are drifting.
That film inside his camera,
that light-sensitive tissue.
Later, she couldn't help
but wonder — how he saw her.
in a carnival glass —
Her legs too thick, her neck too long?
Was he blind
to the curve of shoulder —
Even so, she stretched & twisted,
like a carnival glass girl
back to that house, that bed.
(She stayed, he healed)
But who was it, who could not see?
Joan E. Bauer is the author of The Almost Sound of Drowning (Main Street Rag, 2008).
She lives in Shadyside, and co-curates the Hemingway Summer Poetry Series with Jimmy Cvetic. Many writers featured in Chapter & Verse are guests of Prosody, produced by Jan Beatty and Ellen Wadey. Prosody airs every Saturday morning on 90.5 FM.