Poetry: Contact Lenses

Re-using contact lenses + almost running out of contact lenses + buying new contact lenses = see below. I love how natural the rhyme is in this one. Might experiment with the same structure…


Contact lenses

These were the last
Cradled in my steadied palm
Already over-worn
But still needed.
So I peered in and cleaned with
God’s finger
Gently washing meteors
Away from swirling stars.

I have replacements
Boxed, bought and waiting
To be desecrated
But not needed.
So I barely even see
My finger
Rip into the skin
And destroy what was once sacred.

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