“Visible” by Maria Berardi
Bundled along, bound
from room to room
to smaller room
to cabinet
to cubby
to ring-box
to keyhole,
tumbling,
hapless, helpless, now,
as if a fall,
a headlong loss into darkness,
from kitchen to cellar,
down the dark stairs,
haunted.
Hands fumble
along the configuration of this cell
finger the Braille
of these boundaries,
this space opaque until touched,
then illuminated
one phosphorescent fingerprint at a time.
In time, maybe sight,
luminescence, even, to read,
to read novels or comics
on the walls,
love is not consolation,
it is light. *
*Simone Weil