- Magdalena Horvat
The Girl with the Piercing
gaze, they called her. A shame
that she couldn't look at living things.
It hurt. She'd no idea at first,
so she stared. People turned away
in pain, animals ran scared as if she'd
branded them. Her brother said
it was a gift, being able to focus
your eyes so hard until they burnt skin.
She disagreed. Spent whole days
nailing her eyes to the ceiling,
nights longing to watch and be watched
by someone whom she wouldn't
scorch, hoping for some healing. But
they scanned her legs, rear; others gaped
at the margins of air. She'd shoot
a look at those who deserved it
– sneak a peek their way, dart a sly eye;
of course, suffering would ensue.
Last I heard of Sue, she went
blind by a long, steady, unblinking glare
in the mirror: A brave rebirth,
followed by years of learning to
grasp the world anew – guiltless, kind,
feeling out a fresh point of view.
