Academic journal article Antipodes

In the Line of Sight

Academic journal article Antipodes

In the Line of Sight

Article excerpt

It's a black-hole universe in there,

my eye's pupil in the mirror, up close

wide as infinity, forced open and coal-black,

midnight storm-skies wintering over bog

sunken beneath lochs pit-eyed and blank.

Dark moon in that dead sky,

lens gone cloudy then lost,

small and curved it faded out of clarity

steadily, swiftly.

If this pace continues, blinding,

soon, I will need to learn the shape of wing

in the songs of all those morning birds that

color the palate of day

as light comes dancing and brazen in.

Need to memorize quickly,

the particular brilliance in my sons' eyes,

one with sapphires cut sea-blue,

the other, full summer haze in the Blue Mountains.

And their smiles, the planes of their faces;

shadows that grow in faintly-visible stubble over years

unwritten yet in their smooth cheeks;

heads thrown back cocked with laughter at their own jokes;

a stubborn resistance in the jaw.

Notice the fold of their backs bending

for school bags, the flinging shoulder, and

clocked forever maybe, where they stand,

the angle of arms thrown out

jumping into the deep end now, pure with joy.

My fingers might need to sprout nerves

between their lines, grow maps into their touch,

learn the boundaries, the guide-railings

sight knew and held onto each day

kitchen tap, step, tree, post-box;

the curb, the crossing, the car. …

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