To My One True Reader

The day draws to a close and I feel
The losses of childhood, the boy who was sent away
Too blind for games.

Now the furniture grows heavy as the light goes.
This is why the trees stand like numbers.

At five I sat alone in the woods.
Our neighbor–a lawyer
Whose house was behind a stockade—
Went to the fields
With a pistol and a flock of children.
He planned to display heroism by shooting snakes.
I asked if I could come
But he said my blindness would prevent it.
The children taunted me:

"You can't come because you're blind!"
"Yeah, you might get hurt!"

A pine cone hit me in the face.

"Look! He didn't even see that coming!"
"A snake will bite him!"

Then they vanished.

Some nights in the cold I start to fly.
I mean it.

Author: skuusisto

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

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