Eyes

Eyes

Embarrassed, ashamed, of 
my alphabetical brown eyes I’m 
not! My eyes adjust easily to 
different clear sound waves. Some 
sound waves desire venomously to 
change the temperature to 
ad infinitum cold to 
fit a new purpose – collect, bath in, 
my anger for 
the cold so they can 
use it to 
power electrical things. They’ll never be able to sustain it for long! When I dilute my eyeballs with boiling water all sizes of 
cupboards appear in 
the kitchen of 
poor peoples’ homes.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace