When my lover went blind,
He touched my stains, my teacup skin,
He took my thirst and drank it in.

When my lover went blind,
He followed the waves, nose to the wind,
We salted our toes by dipping them in.

When my lover went blind,
We cracked oysters, thick with sin
And fed on their liquor, dripping it in.

When my lover went blind,
His ears could see and his hands were finned
I climbed on his back, we dove in.

—
PJ Wren writes poems and very short fiction and has had work published in The Lake and After the Pause. More of PJ Wren’s writing, including non-fiction, poems, and stories, can be found at (or through) Inside the Glass Tunnel and PJWrenWriting.