When Blindness Does

When blindness does not take hold,
as in the past

and assuredly
at an approaching

point, your voice
is a wish to be my anchor—

dark blue and warming.

When your will for water
rises onto my countenance,

cheering through
the gray lines of

eye-white evaporate,
in a tiny mirage of golds

suffused: this

personal study
for salvation-grace;

When shooting dances surround
our conjoined

orange heart,
traces crisp,

traces hesitation..

You await by twin endtips
cornering my silent smile.