Tonight's Poet Corner: I See More Color With My Left Eye

I See More Color With My Left Eye
by Belinda Roddie

There's a fragility, in the sense of
whisking visual exploration; a London Underground
railway exploring all the walls like canvasses
streaked with the art of commercial gain.
But something about the hues to the left of my
periphery catches me off guard, not in the
brightness of it, but in the shade. A sparkle

to the amber sheen of a glass window - crisp,
golden ale stains from a more than yellow sun. A
hot pocketed spiral of blues within my lined
paper route, the words crooked ebony on the
bed of dissertation. Disillusioned, longing, turmoiled
agate jewel crystallizes outside the schoolyard,
turning pale gray when I look dead on
instead of glancing to the side.

I see all things beautifully,
but the left brings an uncertain
glow to the dew of bay area day. The fog
swirls just right beneath my defending cornea.
The spots, dancing, webs of retinal spiders
spinning sky into threads along screens, bouncing
on tabletops, before the nobility of the world's
chromatism shines outward, and the pigment
sucks the blush from my cheeks, and leaves me
dangling on an off-white string.