The School for the Blind, by Richard Krawiec

Richard Krawiec
THE SCHOOL FOR THE BLIND

Like a music-drugged rock star
Tyler’s head swivels
a figure eight
above the Braille machine
while he bangs out a story
of abandonment and acceptance

Monique’s pink and downy
scalp glows over the paper
her lips pucker an inch above
she reads like a lover
bestowing a kiss
to the tale of herself
as an alien freeing an alien dog

Zach’s fingers puzzle
each letter of Braille
he types, struggling
to get the spelling right
so he can share his premature
birth, detached retinas

The Braille Writer spits
out sheets which say
DaVonte’s character bursts
into ashes, overloaded
with homework, his parents
die of stroke, blinded
by the letters of their assignments

Her frizzed afro,held in a T
by a wound elastic, quivers
as Diamond writes of that incredible gift
a visit to Food Lion, the ritual
to pack her clothing for the trip

When I ask Brandon
if his character, Princess Poach,
might open her parasol
and float into his life
he laughs at me, “That’s too much
imagination.” I am the one
who seems to be lacking.

How dare I whine to myself
about friends distanced
by divorce and ennui,
about lovers and sons
and their gnat-irritations?
How dare I inflate
into torment the small
discomforts of my day?

When
Cassidy smiles
despite her noseless face
Kimberly giggles,
the gray discs of her eyes
darting side to side,
Tavish, head lined
with an incision scar
from ear to ear across his dome
stutters with joy because
he learned how
to dribble a basketball?