Sight-Reading
by Stephen Edgar
And then there is the case of the woman who,
When people spoke, could see their words, their whole
Enunciated utterances, scroll
In front of them, as on an autocue.
Or again, the man who had the power to view
Numbers receding to a distant goal
In three dimensions (but could not control
The teens, which turned right). No such sights for you.
Daylight. You see through that. But in the air,
What if the hours hold more than you can read,
Each one a text dissolving as it passes?
Each day you make your way through them to where
The sunset flaunts before your blinded glasses,
As it disintegrates, the sense you need.
