When Blindness Does

When blindness does not take hold,
as in the past
and assuredly at an approaching
point,
your voice is a wish to be my anchor—
dark blue and warming.

When your will for water rises onto
my countenance,
cheering through the gray lines of eye-
white evaporate, in
a tiny mirage
of golds suffused,
as a personal
study for salvation-grace;

when shooting dances surround
our conjoined
orange mind, traces crisp,
traces hesitation…

You await by twin endtips cornering
my silent smile.

A Friend

A friend of a friend
of a father of a father
of a student of a student
of a lover of a lover
of a champion of a champion
of a denier of a denier
of a mother of a mother
of a reader of a reader
of a watcher of a watcher
of a listener of a listener
of a companion of a companion
of a nurser of a nurser
of a master of a master
of a pickler of a pickler
of a voice of a voice
of a helper of a helper
of a teacher of a teacher
of a driver of a driver
of a deliverer of a deliverer
of a people of a people