I was born with a backwards eye which

Stares severely into my skull

Sifts every grain harvested by the frontwards eye

the two ears, nostrils, skin and tongue

Pokes and prods the quiet nervous brain

where those grains are piled in no particular order

Feverishly endeavors

to catalog everything

to make some semblance of sense

to prove a grand unified theory

When you’re born with a backwards eye

you only see half as well

you know much too much

Maybe you’re a ponderous pirate

hiding the truth behind a patch

Some days you feel like Cyclops

monstrous, underground, grunting in the dark.