Juliet and Heaven

She imagines what it is like when he wakes up,

a king caught outside his own castle,

invaded by his own barbaric eyes—

or the middle of the night

when you throw on the light, but

can’t bear the trample of nameless shapes and colors,

or maybe it is nothing like that.

The cure was impermanent;

now he only vaguely makes things out.

But this is fine with him, he can

see better that way.

Juliet wonders what this is like, perhaps

a plastic azure world of pillows and curves,

a little boring, like heaven used to be.