Words, words everywhere

Yesterday was National Poetry Day and the theme was 'Water' - events here, events there, poetical events were everywhere. Here's my offering - a bit of autobiography about an incident that definitely involved water in the form of tears...

Iridodialysis

I

Mis-timed arrow,
sharp pain worse than grating bone-ends,
eyeball white splits and bleeds
between clutching fingers, fills with red,
a blue-spotted pool ball –
get back in, vile jelly –
the archer cries, throws away her bow,

I fall to my knees and keen,
Others pace and mutter,
(“Hospital please”)
they mutter on – where's the Eye Unit? Um, dunno,
(“HOSPITAL NOW PLEASE”);
I’m sure it shouldn’t be me that has to give directions...

II

Nurse looks through a lens,
her eyes open wider than mine can,
calls the sister,
calls the doctor,
calls the head consultant from his bed –
rungs of gravitas, a ladder of distress;
he provides painkilling drops –
I love him –

I’ve begun to vaguely buzz and giggle,
it’s shocking –
he explains the impracticality of micro-surgery;
my other eye glazes over,
tests are performed,
stereograms – “what can you see?”
pyramid or boat,
follow the flashing dot,
follow my finger,
follow the white coat,
put your chin
on the optico-neuro-cerebro-whatsit;

steriods are prescribed,
machine goes ‘bleep’
and images tiny torn strings of muscle and grue,
milk ripped from lapis,
the word ‘blow-out’ is used –
I enquire –
an explanation is given
in terms of a thumb-squashed ping-pong ball,
inner front hit inner back,
now popped back out –
I feel vaguely sick
and sit –
I’d like to go to sleep,
machine goes ‘beep’.

III

I now have two pupils on that side,
but all the care and wondrous NHS
means I also have two eyes.