Submit your pitch to our Live Storytelling Event


Eye Examined

Cortney Davis

In the darkened room, vision dims.
The doctor leans close, looks eye to eye;
his light invades my pupil’s rim.

His light moves left and right as he directs
his beam across my retina. Vessels
float like crimson ribbons, thin and bright.

It is as if my eye sees both in and out—
the optic disk reflected in my steady gaze.
I see what the doctor sees:

the tiny, obscure pulse, the net
of flimsy veins, my inner sight.
All things seen or half-seen

are tangled there, trapped
by doctor’s stare. His eye.
My eye. Vast universe between.