Bloodshot

You are now aware of your eyelashes,
long, graceful, and gently
pulling away from your eyelid.

You are now aware of the last time
one shed,
like a dead branch from a tall tree,
and landed,
floating,
on the surface of your vision.

Tonight,
when the lights are off
and the full moon gazes,
bloodshot,
through your window,
you will wake with a sudden start –
a pain in your eye,
something sharp,
something rough,
an eyelash that is not your own.

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