Walking Blind

Each morning I put on my utopia coat
Its pockets filled with zeros
That my loneliness and yours
Will be served, just as we feed
Lost dogs, just as we hope
For a sweet, apolitical surprise
Around every corner
I don’t ask if you know me—
Shadows and sand grains
Don’t ask—though I murmur
Funny to be in this body
And not that one
All our eyes expect
To be received

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto