I See the Blind

Flashing in the morning light,
knowing change is but a coin
tossed in the air, neither heads
nor tails, cement-kissed cheek
unable to turn (keeping still)
lest I wake the sleeping ones.

Cuffed up for being
of color, of consequence.

Feeling weight, long dead,
of a grandmother’s song:

On Sundays, I see the blind.

When they caught up to me,
I slept like a stone, newly
polished – a glistening red.

Laine Derr holds an MFA from Northern Arizona University and has published interviews with Carl Phillips, Ross Gay, Ted Kooser, and Robert Pinsky. Recent work has appeared in or is forthcoming from J Journal, Full Bleed + The Phillips Collection, ZYZZYVA, Portland Review, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere.