Nan Rosen


In the brightness of the day,
The left eye peers
To see the world
In blurry splendor
Of clouded shapes
And muted color
Faces seen as through a fog,
Not quite real, eyes shaded.
Yet, smiles are bright.

I strain to see the shapes of lips
Or signs on hands --
Come closer
So I can see or touch and feel
The meaning of your words.

In the darkness of the night
The right eye wakes to phantom sight.
Its lifeless glass peers inward
Down tunneled memories of the past
To a world washed clear and bright by youth.

* * *


(I saw this carving at a maritime museum in Mystic Harbor, CT.
It was one museum piece I was allowed to touch.)

They set him in
A place of honor
To swim through air
Besides the door.

He was a happy
Gray green otter
Perfect from
His nose to tail.

Carved of rock
Like jade or soapstone
Bright green eyes
And teeth like needles
Hint of whiskers
Tiny webs
Between his toes

The artist caught
His twisting motion
As though swimming
Through a gentle sea

If I was rich
I would have bought him
Spending thousands
To bring him home.

But I am poor.
And so, I left him,
Left with only memories
Of a laughing
Sea green otter
Joy and motion
Caught in stone.

Nan Rosen is a legally deaf-blind writer living in Denver, CO. She once edited the Deaf-Blind American for the American Association of the Deaf-Blind. Her current specialty is poetry, and fantasy and science fiction short stories. She is co-author, with Carolyn Mineah, of Voyage to Centauri.