- Vol. 06
- Chapter 11
These Three Eyes
I step out onto the balcony for
a breath of polluted Sydney air.
My three eyes – these windows
to what I am told is a soul – are
confronted with three distorted
mirror images that bounce blue
and red light back and forwards
across that Stygian gulf of night.
There was a time when red was
my favourite colour – it was the
red delicious apple of blue eyes.
The vehement vermillion burnt
out to a clear blue in the blink of
aging eyes. Now I see my people
all here together under cerulean
skies that conceal the depths of
timeless space. I hold my breath
for a time & breathe thru 3 eyes.