Laurie Klein (bio)

No lightning bolt answers
your choices these days.
Instead, a growing blindness
exposes theology strict as the slit
of a scalpel. Friend, it is I,
skewed by a growing cataract,
as pupil and retina splinter
all oncoming light. Dear God,
the impossible trust
to be mustered, the sterile
draping of face, save
this defect—how will I ever
lie still enough? Prayer-less,
your hand squeezes mine, having
survived this surgery, twice,
and, as sedation takes hold, you
believe I will see.

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