Today I saw the white spot on my brain.
It's fuzzy like an out-of-focus sty.
The brain itself much sharper than the pain
With which the needle shot me full of dye.
Ten days I wondered if this could be it:
I'm falling; no I'm not; my focus shot.
Is this the one that turns my life to shit?
Ten days and gone--it turns out this is not.
(Though when I glance too fast, I stumble still,
I think this is extraordinary luck--
Or fate, if wives are right and there's a Will.
But I'm not built for that; I have no truck
With Gods who smile and smite or give reprieves.)
Two legs, two eyes, and all that I can get.
Not yet, you motherfucker. Not just yet.
