A girl pressed her palms against her eye sockets.
Was she trying to keep her eyeballs from popping out?
Or was she trying to make sure something didn't get into her eye?
If it was the latter, I don't think it was matter she sought to keep out-
not grit, acid, iron filings, or any of the other nasties that get in an eye.
No. She was making a light-tight seal.
So, she was really trying to keep something out of her brain.
Light is just light.
It takes a brain to dance photons into a horror story.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged Eye, poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
