Saturday, February 7, 2015

Poems and Prose #112 - Quarry

Some odd undulation
  intrudes on my vision,
diminishing my
  rod/cone combo's precision.

And so I hold my eye agape
  and begin the incision,
knowing that
  even if my hand trembles
  and I fail on this mission,
I'll no longer be faced
  optically
  with the resulting derision.

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