Stephen Kuusisto, Letters to Borges


So it’s a day of not caring

Not caring when the bus driver

Won’t call out the stops

Though I’m blind

Not caring he resents his job

Or that I signify resentment

You see I’m lifting just so

Like a fabric airplane

So I really don’t care

When a big administrator

At my college says:

“Don’t tell me,

I care about the disabled!”

Like those white people

Who say, “I had a black friend once…”

It’s a day of not caring

A day for opening my throat

That I may sing

The song of statelessness

While rain comes down

A proper rain

And a green caterpillar

Feeling the thunderstorm

Walks over my wrist.

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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