Joan Ross Blaedel

Tender Lift of Lint

this week,
an aqua thread
of lint caught on my lash.
In the bathroom mirror, fuzz
light as morning soap, moss
from a cocoon, or lichen web of
spider mites seemed permanently
attached. First thought. If he were
here across from me, chatting,
glancing, giving me his time, he'd see
this fluff, caught near my eye,
an eye he loved, slanted, green-blue,
one of two that couldn't see to read
street signs when I was eight.
Increasingly myopic,
unusually observant eye.
An automatic synapse to his brain:
clear away debris, protective
gesture, thoughtless, thoughtful
to pinch his thumb to finger,
form a graceful paisley shape,
teardrop hole of air between,
slightly lean toward me,
reach up, lightly touch
his fingers to my lid,
gently pluck
it off.

Copyright 1997, Joan Ross Blaedel

Joan Ross Blaedel is a Seattle visual artist and writer. Her poetry has been displayed
on METRO buses and published in King County Art Commission's Written Arts. Her
visual art is reproduced in the second issue of Switched-on Gutenberg.

Switched-on Gutenberg
Thematic Contents / Vol. 2, No. 2
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