Sometimes Aunt History is blind
And moves through the museum
Of atrocities like Helen Keller
In her childhood garden
She touches things
That can’t be explained
Like the world’s first
Lead lined hat
Or the Vatican’s
Catherine Wheel
Strappado poles
Falanga sticks
Imagine
Feeling objects
Without a teacher
With no words
So you yourself
Become an exhibit
You’d ask
“Who is watching me?”
You’d ask the air
To let you see
You’d pray
For the persistence
Of hope
Without expectations
Like a prisoner
Touching a wall
Planet of the Blind 