EYES
*
In hurricane season, the spotter
plane flies through turbulence
into the eye. Stop signs snap
in the wind, the porch hammock
twists on eye hooks.
Seed potatoes sprout
in the basement.
Each pale eye growing
from a cube of the mother
until tendril breaks earth
*
Her parents shake her shoulder,
call her name. Closed eyes roam
underneath their lids.
Her eyes slit open,
they think she is waking up.
Even the therapist thinks
she is tracking his finger;
but her pupils,
narrow columns of black,
stare into beyond.
