Your office window pictures your straight-line story,
An everyday map locating secure bearings:
Emerald trees cooling salt-dome upheaval,
The commute of right angles and stoplight seething,
The college that buried you in seductive words,
The ancient cemetery desired by your urn.
You craved star journeys, but got a boyish big bang,
A seven-iron swing to the skull—and cell-flash of
Red-orange-yellow-blue-green spectrum explosions.
Ripped from its snug wall, your blood-rich left retina
Drowned in poisonous fluid, a ghostly planet
Fading to brown-purple and streaking milky pink.
Your frozen iris gapes, blotting sunshine cold,
Yet colors kaleidoscope from a light within,
Rose-window jewels opening my blinkered sight.