The Blind Side

The menace
was behind his eyes, on
the blind side,
feasting on the fruit
of entering visions.

From nothing, the doctors said,
the tumour grew
to the size of an orange:

the kind that borrows
greedily from the branch,
growing ever more ripe
as the tree itself rots.

Now, it’s family history,
fact and memory that
wasn’t present before;

the glutton that ravaged
my father’s brain
threatens mine.

When I think of the time
he should have had,

I feel my own vision growing dim.

[for Fraser J. Abraham]

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