my father's eye - eleni vakalo

My Father's Eye
by Eleni Vakalo

My Father had a glass eye

On Sundays when he stayed home he took out of his pockets other eyes and polished them
with the edge of his sleeve and called my mother to choose.  My mother laughed.

In the mornings my father was happy.  He played with his eye in his palm before he put it on
and declared it was a good eye.  But I didn't want to believe it.

I threw a dark shawl over my shoulders pretending I was too old to watch what was going on.
In the end I caught him once weeping.  There was no difference from a real eye.

     This poem
     is not to be read
     by those who don't love me
     even
     by those
     who don't know me
     if they don't believe
     I existed
     like
     them

After the story of my father I suspected even those who had real eyes.