Astigmatic

image

I sometimes sleep so soundly
That I’m afraid I’ve died.

The objects in my mirror
Are closer than they appear,
But I’m too prone to whiplash
To turn around.

I sometimes sleep so restlessly
That I’m afraid I’ll never rest again.

My optometrist says
I can’t read signs
Because I have astigmatism.

This fuzzy world
Seems warmer
Somehow.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s