Something like a rubber ball
springs across my sight
like the “pinks” we played
gutter ball or stickball with.
Something like the barber pole
outside the shop down the block
spinning out a constant dream
now makes a dizzying display
in the middle of the page
I am trying to read.
My eye doctor, on the contrary,
calls them warnings, silent
migraines with auras–
not spiritual emanations
around the body.
But at the least, I insist,
they are diversions
from my ordinary day
where in a darkened room
I am left completely blind.
About the Poet
Stephen Ruffus’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in the Valparaiso Poetry Review, the American Journal of Poetry, Eunoia Review, Red Eft Review, The Stray Branch, and Hotel Amerika. He has studied poetry at Colorado State University, the University of California at Irvine, and the University of Utah. He is from New York City and resides in Salt Lake City.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
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I am loving the sense of revelation in the second stanza!