—“I do not know which of us has written this page.”
—Jorge Luis Borges, “Borges and I”
Hands that rock the cradle
Or sweep a white cane
Know who’s writing—
Words appear and startle
In the air above
Sleeping children
& a blind woman
Parts vast lexicons
As she makes her way
Down broadway
Tap tapping.
In his blindness
Borges
Was never alone.
So he didn’t
Rehearse
His fate
Reaching
Or walking—
Friends
Told him
What to see.
I say
In the sloping dark
The blind move fast
Their own words
On their tongues.
