To think that we see them so often yet so rarely
consider how those piebald songbirds so at home
on a snow-scape in their portable parkas are made of
the exact same stuff we use to fill up our electric sky & neon
watermelon nylon winter coats which must be designed
expressly for us to go out there looking ridiculous
not to mention callous (clothed as it were in outright exploitation)—
is the thing I’m pondering as I observe through the window
a little house finch all feathery & poofed with his flushed cheeks
flitting over the snowy patio pecking among the abandoned
bench-feet for invisible if not entirely non-existent morsels
& hawking an air of self-possession that is obvious even to me
in my current incapacitated state
As for whether the red-crowned retina specialist
who conducted my examination was young &/or fetching
the prospect was murky (his brisk entrance at the climax
of my dilation coupled with his expertly-executed clasp
of my hand inspired my fleeting impression he’d been both)
& all bets were off the very moment the white-cloaked smeary
hulk of him ambushed my defenseless retinas with an impossibly
aggressive radiant device thus affording me the pivotal elucidation:
that a). the anomaly on my fundus autofluourescence images
is simply an unremarkable patch of variegated pigmentation
b). it was only natural to expect that the definition
of such a lexical wonder as variegated would elude the layperson
& c). I am indeed obliged by gratuitous pigeonholing
to take categorical offense
Not that I’m usually so bold as to co-opt medical jargon
but I’m pretty certain variegated is the only word that could
aptly account for what’s right now comprising the better part
of my visual experience as embodied by this polka-dotty
aberration also known as a scone I resorted to purchasing
in the hospital café thus affording myself the pivotal illusion:
that a). I’m quite absorbed in an earnest task
while waiting here in the lobby for my ride
& b). I wouldn’t otherwise be averting
my freakish black gaze from passersby
because c). I’m the kind of person
who always smiles at everyone as if to say
I accept you for who you are no matter what…
I’ve gathered that the dark splotches must be
cranberries—however vainly their vague sweet-tang
serves to redeem their crumbly substrate’s alleged
alimentary function
Still the finch remains staunchly committed
to my functional blindness as if by sheer force of his
impending command its concomitant scone-silage
would transcend the glass & sift to the frozen ground
STEPHANIE L. HARPER
“Dilated” was published by CatheXis Northwest Press in November 2018 (they seem to be having difficulties with their website). Thank you to editor C.M. Tollefson for accepting this piece!
