Copyright Delia Kelly 2025
Poem publish in Magazine Itaca, Dublin, in Romanian, XIII Year, Nr. 5, Pg.12
The art has one eye on fire and one that’s blind.
Even if someone were to drown her, she will put her hands in her eyes and take all the water out
THE LEFT EYE. It would still burn.
THE RIGHT EYE. Worn dry as always.
No sign of glasses.
Only a green hat, always perched upon her head – to veil a part of her tragedy.
At every street corner, she finds herself met by someone who, in some quiet way, offers her a compliment
raising her to a glory of her own making
yet no one is truly sincere.
People are too afraid of her face, they are unsettled by how much it mirrors them.
Poor thing.
She ought to be cared for,
instead she is left alone to care for herself.
May someone gentle tending her eyes
and her hands.
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