Twenty Twenty Vision

　　by Mark Ford

　　 Unwinding in a cavernous bodega he suddenly

　　 Burst out：--Barman， these tumblers empty themselves

　　 And yet I persist； I am wedged in the giant eye

　　 Of an invisible needle. Walking through doors

　　 Or into them， listening to anecdotes or myself spinning

　　 A yarn， I realize my doom is never to forget

　　 My lost bearings. In medias res we begin

　　 And end： I was born， and then my body unfurled

　　 As if to illustrate a few tiny but effective words

　　 But--oh my oh my--avaunt. I peered

　　 Forth， stupefied， from the bushes as the sun set

　　 Behind distant hills. A pair of hungry owls

　　 Saluted the arrival of webby darkness； the dew

　　 Descended upon the creeping ferns. At first

　　 My sticky blood refused to flow， gathering instead

　　 In wax-like drops and pools； mixed with water and a dram

　　 Of colourless alcohol it thinned and reluctantly

　　 Ebbed away. I lay emptied as a fallen

　　 Leaf until startled awake by a blinding flash

　　 Of dry lightning， and the onset of this terrible thirst.

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