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Third Eye
An Ophthalmologic Triptych
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The Emergency Room
I came because the website told me to,
My symptoms glowing dully on the screen,
Insisting that I move with much ado.
So quickly then I said a prayer or two
And here I sit now, halfway through the night,
In peace I think, yet wondering if I might
Go blind while staring at the snack machine.
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The Specialist
The retina, he assured me, isn’t torn;
The symptoms should at least somewhat reverse,
And in a year or two, he calmly warned,
The other eye will also be suborned.
The news seems good and bad, both yes and no:
I’m relatively fine for now, although
Like much of life, I’ll just keep getting worse.
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At Home
And drama done (this one, at least, for now),
It’s not at all that clear to me that I’m,
Say, stronger, wiser, better knowing how
To keep my hand quite firmly on the plow.
I find myself curled up within the folds
Of deep-set silence that my body holds
Against the blank and woolly scratch of Time.
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Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
“The Emergency Room” is saddening, maddening, and yet ends with surprise humor (at least to me).
“The Specialist” captures truth under your poetic microscope. Sometimes even a sliver of hope is sufficient now that we have learned the extent or likely outcome of our problem.
The one “At Home” seems resigned or at least has come to terms with the “blank and wooly scratch of time,” an inspired ending.
I love it. Poetry can tell even the story of an ER visit in a winsome way. Thank you.
Gigi
I agree with Gigi when she says, “Poetry can tell even the story of an ER visit in a winsome way.” I can especially relate to the opening line… I have googled symptoms… and terrified myself. I particularly like the reasoned contemplative tone of “At Home”… the closing three lines are heart-touchingly beautiful. Thank you, Jeffrey.
Nice trio. I especially like the imagery of “At Home” beginning with the line “To keep my hand quite firmly on the plow.”
That double image of blankets (the body’s folds of silence and woolly, scratchy Time) gives a marvelous curl to the end of the poem. I notice that Time is also “blank” as to information about the future. May your vision persevere in service to the delight of unfailing light above!
I enjoyed all three Jeffrey. We, who are into our ‘golden’ years, get the messages clearly. Thank you.
This is a really lovely trio. I echo the above comments, and add that I really like the somewhat unusual rhyme scheme, and that it was carried through all three poems. I do hope your eye is all right!
Thank you, everyone, for your very kind comments–and for your even kinder concern about my eyes(s). The symptoms that drove me to the emergency room indicated the possibility of a detached retina. (Not good; not good at all.) What the emergency room team said–and the specialist confirmed–was that it wasn’t a detached retina; rather, it was the fluid in my eye detaching from the retina (PVD, if you feel like googling). Just comes with age… And hey, it gave me a poem. But thanks again.
While I’m here, I should also give a shout-out to Evan Mantyk, who, when I initially submitted only the first poem, told me “This is a triptych.” and told me to come back when I’d written the other two. Many thanks, Evan!
P.S. Cynthia, I’m sure the rhyme scheme must be from Longfellow. I’ve been ripping him off left and right lately.
That’s fascinating!