Mind's Eye

Kathi Wolfe

If I were Queen of the World,

ruling with my Royal Smart Phone,

Bluetooth in tiara, walking

my besotted, blue-blood dogs,

regally motioning to my worshipful

subjects to stop curtsying,

only my bejewelled cane

would dig its way

into the tunnel of your vision.

If I won the Nobel Prize for cracking

the passwords of the dead,

only my encrypted, blinkered eyes

would register in your retinas.

If Sabrina and I were making love,

nymphs on the loose in the mid-day sun—

clothes, purses mindlessly abandoned

on the grass—only my blind

gaze would meet your mind's eye.