Sun, 28 September

INVENTORY OF WHAT THE LEFT EYE SAW BEFORE THE DROPS TOOK HOLD 1. The ceiling tile with one corner lifting 2. A chart of letters shrinking toward prayer 3. The optometrist's ear, backlit, translucent as a leaf 4. Sixteen magazines fanned like a losing hand 5. The word WELLINGTON reversed in door glass 6. My own lashes, suddenly enormous 7. A clock whose second hand moved in the wrong direction (or so it seemed) 8. The particular gray that is Sunday 9. A poster of the human eye looking back at me looking at it 10. Three floaters I have named: Margaret, the Admiral, and God 11. The ophthalmoscope's light arriving like a small annunciation 12. Nothing 13. Then: everything, too bright, uncloseable