wounded eyes

when you took me into this bedroom your vanity mirror was milk glass its frame tarnished before a sleeping doe on the rug; a typewriter with keys removed at the bedside rain splashed from a downspout outside i strained to find a window but only the sound was heard the bed was veiled in chandelier ash sight turns more internal now on a table beneath your mirror three ribbons tied matching coal lockets where they laid for each estranged season, a clip of cord from telephone; clipped hair into a jar this hair is maintained by others now and you told me i was let into this room because the yard was filled by black widows and we would be safe here in age tying ourselves in fabrics before a sleeping doe night will polish a memory of revolvers several hours until morning several hours until sunset we should have been born inside diving bells descending through these yards flooded by recollection; estuaries ripped their banks synapses spill like lemonade in a breakfast nook the teanaway will surround these foundations rising from wilderness a box holding my medals floats away downstairs where heat rises from one son leaves for a war and the second returns wrapped in bed sheets to be lifted up the stairs into this very bedroom where he is laid and his eyes are licked by a small doe before a mirror, unreflective as milk glass he is unable to see his own wounds and i am unable to see my own wounds bandages cover eyelashes, the mirror milk hung in a hospice tended to by does http://www.westernpines.net/