A doctor makes a small
incision—a mere hyphen—in the crease of an upper lid
pinned open by paralysisand inserts, like a tiny
letter in a tiny mail slot,a narrow bar of gold,allowing the lid
to close with gravity.A faint shape visible
on the eyelidbetrays the precious metal
embedded below.Blocked from light,
it has no luster—like a wedding band
stowed in a drawer.
Closure
Ann Rae Jonas
Feature Date
- June 19, 2018
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Copyright © 2018 by Ann Rae Jonas
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission
Summer 2018
Berkeley, California
Editor and Publisher
Wendy Lesser
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