Surveillance
richard perkins
There is no room left in my head
For anything else.
With sad regard, I remove my eyes,
Never having used them well enough.
Spy cameras
Sweep through angles of paranoia,
Unblinking lenses leave a static trail.
Each year,
I punch more holes in my house.
You can never be sure whatıs out there;
A fading sun, digesting humus.
Openings in the wall
Are not ragged windows in my home
But seeping depressions in my skull
Which I can use for seeing -
A thousand or more settings for eyes.
Itıs doubtful Iıll ever need them,
Because thereıs an acute strength
Required when giving up
And I can see its severed flower now,
Crying in unbroken moonlight,
Petals swiveled on the ground
In every possible direction.
