Laura Jeu

Transparency.

Jesus can see right through me.

A promise and a threat.

 

Stained with sin,

Snow, too cold to emulate,

Blinds my vision.

 

Be my vision?

Through stained glass irises,

I see less each day.

 

The eye chart on the far wall

Reads like a coerced suicide note

Written with a liturgy against my temple.

 

I contain layers of opacity,

Hopefully concealing the pyre,

Skeptically extinguishing itself.