Born Blind: After Tiepolo | Peter Steele

The hands about his brow and jaw, the smear

Of dirt and spittle pasted on his eyes

Came to him in the darkness: also, fear

That after all the failures, no surprise


Could visit him, no magus usher in

The blessed light of which his mother spoke

As if it had the potency to win

A world that should without it go to smoke.


Obedient, he fumbled to the pool,

Heart in his mouth, and washed the stuff away,

Kneeling in shelter. And began to mewl,

Big-boned as he was, to find the day


Open around him, the people strange and tall,

The musing healer up against the wall.

The Gossip & The Wine

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