Elizabeth Smither

1 | 2 | 3

The eye is badly designed

The closed eye is gone
under the lid like a moon
sliding under the sea.


Open it and it slides down
like someone sliding down
the balustrade of a stair.


It makes thinking odd
that the slide must come
before the look


and how can it be wise
to disappear inside your own head
leaving a blank screen?


The afternoon’s doze, the night’s sleep
write: I am no longer here
and vacate the scene.


Slip away and slide back
how quickly we land
back at the scene, on our feet.

Contents | Previous | Next | About this Author