Slow-growing cataracts pacing like glaciers spawning like waterfalls over my eyeballs year after year after year. I'm peering at poached eggs that started as milk bottles no no not eggs but a couple of eyeballs white with a yolk a yellow cascade of cataracts saying now, now thou lazy thou dazey get to the eye clinic get thyself lasered or find thyself munching on plastic eggs. Optical nonsense. Yes, you were fine but be honest: it's time.
~ rachel mcalpine 2021, feel free to share citing me as author
PS Yes, I have slow-growing cataracts, and yes, sometime this year I will get them fixed. And yes that’s a pretty silly poem.