Eyes, As Weapons

These tourists with their
twitch and snap head turn
death-ray focus
go home
go back indoors
This is public space
not an extension of your family fantasy
I am not TV
Pop your bubble
Fuck off


~ ~ ~


The hand
was open
not pulling
not a fist
I'd like to believe

It's missing
I'm looking for it
in need

I don't know why I left it where I did
not a clean hand


~ ~ ~


It is a cruel, harsh light I use to dissect
maybe the sun in the desert
or a focussed lamp
it shrivels life to brittleness
reflects back
burns my eyes



~ ~ ~