5. Eyes, Eye-fringes, Iris of the Eye, Eye-brows, and the Waking or Sleeping of the Lids

In my more primitive moments, I wish I am a snail
and with my ocelli distinguish between light and dark,
between shriveling sunlight and moist dark,
and no more.

No shapes like a loop of rope swinging from a tree,
twelve bamboo fingers pinching fingers of flesh and bone,
iron-jawed pliers, grinning crocodile clips, hypodermic needle, automatic rifles,
basin, doorknob, chair or window.

If I were a snail, I won't see colors either.
Veins bulging in forehead. Cigarette burns. Bruises.
Lips dropping their cherry. Charred bodies.
Not even the soil, freshly dug, my body slides over.

But I am not a snail. I have eyes perfect for me:
cone cells for reading music, watching birds, and shooting rapids;
rod cells for looking aslant at the stars;
eye-fringes; iris of the eye; eye-brows; and the waking or sleeping of the lids.



Plan for this poem-in-progress

Comments

Brent Goodman said…
Well done Jee! One of my new favorites of yours.

Brent
Jee Leong said…
Thanks, Brent. Glad you like it. A departure in style for me.

Popular posts from this blog

Wallace Stevens' "The Noble Rider and the Sound of Words"

Goh Chok Tong's Visit to FCBC

Singapore Launch of Steep Tea and SWF