Making new

By | 1 July 2009

Sometimes, not enough,
I'd really look at you
and say: Let me clean your glasses.
You'd take them off.
Blink. Hand them over.
Pull out a folded handkerchief
from your trouser pocket
and give that up, too.

It's always the edges that get blurry.
I'd work on those the longest, teasing out
flecks of leaf and breakfast smudges and wattle pollen
until the glass was clear. Like making them new
again. You'd put them on – just as slowly
as you took them off – look around
at your familiar world and say:
There's no doubt about you.

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