Cornea (My Father’s Eyes)

May 8, 2013  |  poetry

My mom received a letter
from the person who
got my dad’s eyes

after he died.
My assumption is that
flesh has no opinion
of its own, so
they don’t now look
at Chinese food all-you-
can-eat buffets and salivate
taking a few extra General
Tso’s chickens, just because
my father did.
I assume also that

the wildflowers
everyone tends to call weeds
did not become their favorite,
did not become that
which scatter the hill
outside this person’s kitchen
window, did not become
part of the visual jokes
of forgetting. So what

will happen? What’s it like
to see through another’s
eyes? And if we meet,
if we cross each other
unknowingly on the streets
of my small hometown,
will there be a confusing
moment of recognition, when
they look at my brown hair
brown eyes slightly expanded
waistline femur bones just
a little too long and I’ll
write them off as curious
about my unconventional

presentation but they’ll
get a flash of a six year old’s
birthday party, a velveteen
green dress with white
tights and polka dots, a cake
in the shape of a hot
air balloon, and they’ll
shake it off, isn’t that
funny. I won’t see them, but
will you recognize me, even
just a little?

 

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5 Comments


  1. I agree, beautiful! (Hopefully this goes through this time).

  2. I absolutely love this. Thank you for sharing it with us. Really. Thank you.

  3. Aw motherfucker that is why I love you and keep coming back! <>

    You pierce the heart of it…………. ….

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