I’ll need special glasses, to filter blues.
Less fluorescent glare to glare into.
And every twenty minutes, the doctor says,
focus on something twenty feet away for
twenty seconds. It won’t crystallize,
won’t make everything perfect again.
That wall will resolve into a wall.
The parking lot outside your window
will still map out who is doing better.
Or worse, what has stayed between
the lines. But maybe it can ache
a diopter less, the way a hardness set
before you divides, is less solid,
a kind of ghost only kind of haunting
wherever you choose to look so long as
you choose to look through it.