Blind Widower
He knows
how to see the dancing atoms
of invisibility, how
to look through unlit windows,
as if he were light gazing in.
Sometimes his deceased wife
will open a cupboard
or wardrobe door,
a faint light sheens
as if a window
had opened in his mind.
He doesn’t know what this means.
His hands seem guided
to find what must be found.
She puts worn socks
in the wash basket while he sleeps.
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