The tiny specks grow a titanic tension.
They’re often harmless,
Google consoles her.
Yet a rare chance burns beyond solace.
Is it a harbinger of retinopathy?
Will her eye-LEDs illuminating soul be burnt out?
Will tomorrow be void of light and colors?
As she moves her eyes,
the eye floaters drift,
weaving a cobweb of questions.
If the sense dominating her brain fumbles and falls,
the eye sockets will be graves.
Precious sights from her memory lane will haunt her.
She loathes retreating into the dark burrow
like a greater bandicoot rat in daytime.
an eye chart and a slit lamp efface her optical anxieties.
‘Life floats across a variety of blurring things,’
she muses and smiles.
*Eye Floaters are spots in vision, like black or gray specks, string or cobweb.
First published in The Literary Hatchet.