Blinded
“Up and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd, unblinking eyes are everywhere. There is one place where two breadths didn’t match, and the eyes go all up and down the line,”
The Yellow Wall-Paper
Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Do you see how
the walls move and bend
into shapes that smother?

Do you see how they reach
reason and twist,
wringing what is
real into a bucket
at your feet?

I do.

Did you follow his
gaze when it shifted,
ashamed at what would be learned
when his eyes landed
on mine?

Did he watch you hide
in the corner,
waiting for the willow
to cast a shadow that
would make it all less
awkward?
Less true?

I did.

Sight is not
what is seen,
but what is
left when lights
go out and walls
linger.

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