Exotropia in three movements of the eye
Strabismus
My left eye takes its job
seriously stays right out
left as in cricket when sent out-
fielding into un-mown grass
Apparently it’s peripheral
scanning Lord knows what it’s looking
out for It’s not interested in
central things won’t focus on books or faces
Not a black-letter
fellow
but way out there
type It doesn’t often report
back But sometimes when I give it
leave It tells me of a red balloon
or the smile on a
passing dog
Nystagmus
My eyes switch
from right to left
neither spot on
target
Back and forth
one becomes two
a false diplopia
the second image
fixed in air
where it is not
a form of creation
which shows more
than anything
the capacity
of the brain
to conjure
Is perhaps the origin
of belief in ghosts
Diplopia
My optometrist said
that eye disorders
match personalities
The inward turned
introvert
Staring down their own
nose
The short-sighted
the world outside
their own sphere
not quite real
The Impressionists Monet say
or Mary Cassatt
interested in time
and space
not so focused
on the detail
Those who always look
over their shoulder
And me
gold digger
of life
scans like a
mine-sweeper
and in my unashamed
greed
for more living
has made a double
of the world
Breakers
Each wave
before it falls
in a white-wash
of its own decay
aims
I think
to make it whole
to shore
not one
ever does