Winter 2007

Table of Contents - Vol. III, No. 4

 

Poetry    Essays    Fiction    Book Reviews

Steve Meador

 

The Eye

Edgar had a glass eye.
Why was a matter of permanent
conjecture.
“Hey, there’s Edgar.”
Powerful words that left un-licked
ice cream melted in the street
or froze a good fight,
with fists hanging mid-air. Theories
took quantum leaps:
he was shot with a BB gun;
he got poked in the eye with a wooden
sword, sharpened razor-like on the sidewalk;
a cat jumped into his crib and didn’t suck
his breath, but ate his eye instead;
he was stuck in the eye with a needle,
and because he was telling the truth
he lost his eye instead of dying.
Out of respect for the eye, the mystery,
and Edgar, no one ever bothered to ask.
I thought it was cool, kind of like a frying
egg with a little blue yolk. It occurred to me
to ask him to come and play marbles with us.
I would wipe out his stash,
then in one final game
he would have to pluck out the eye
and use it. I would win
the greatest shooter marble
of all time.

 

© Steve Meador

 

Poetry    Essays    Fiction    Book Reviews

Website Copyright © 2007 by Loch Raven Review.

Copyright Notice and Terms of Use: This website contains copyrighted materials, including, but not limited to, text, photographs, and graphics. You may not use, copy, publish, upload, download, post to a bulletin board. or otherwise transmit, distribute, or modify any contents of this website in any way, except that you may download one copy of such contents on any single computer for your own personal non-commercial use, provided you do not alter or remove any copyright, poet, author, or artist attribution, or any other proprietary notices.