I have an extra set of eyelashes because you never know. I could cry or laugh, or it could be windy, and I'll need a standby pair.
Hi folks! I wrote this poem in kind of a funny way (for me) in that I started with the title, and then wrote it gradually over the course of a week. I am posting it here partly to stop myself from continuing to fiddle with it.
The fortitude of eyelashes
by Tabatha Yeatts
the atmosphere of the soft planet of our eyes
extends as far as our vision: the low-lying cloud smudges
on spectacles giving way to the clear skies of the stratosphere:
the table, the chairs, the bird hiding in her nest, the squirrel
sitting on the fence, the tree branch leaning to almost scratch
the window, the pine needles arrayed around the branch
like so many resolute eyelashes-- you won't catch them
lying down on the job. No matter what the world
of your eyes has seen, if its orbit has swirled past
burning winds and eruptions that turn its moons
to rubble, asteroids that your eyelashes
must buffer against -- even if they are sentries
for a bloodshot, brokenhearted planet,
the eyelashes are still on duty.
their only weapons--
their willingness to shield,
their constancy in pointing the way,
always scanning ahead,
the way they never leave
until their watch is over
and they fall, alone,
blown, floating --
their last gift:
The Miss Rumphius Effect has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Tricia!
Like everyone, I am touched by Mary Oliver's passing. Although I don't usually share poems on Wednesdays, I shared one of hers this Wednesday.