Ex Nihilio
The twin prays to the dead eye.
He keeps the photograph
under his eye patch,
the better to see you with, my dear.
He fancies your shoes, your silver slippers.
A step in time saves rhyme,
especially if it's on the other foot.
Better a gimp in quicksilver;
than never to have limped at all.
The twin slips under the glove,
grasping at mirrors as usual,
under the wire
that lifts and separates,
the better to feel you with, my dear.
The twin has lost all your marbles
and all the pretty pennies
imported from heaven
at such cost,
praying for a seven or eleven, twice.
He is so blind,
he only has eyes for you.
See blind dice, see how they roll.
The only eyes he has left
are snake eyes.
The twin is looking for a happy ending.
He must be careful
to turn his blind eye,
or he will find it.
Dana Pattillo
