In the bluest eye,
I thought I’d found
Home,
My heart’s desire,
As Judy, in the movie,
Once said.

Now, the bluest eye
Holds no warming flame
Of home.
It turns a mirror
Up to me and shows
The fool that I have been
For selling pieces of myself–
The plates, the cutlery
The sheets, the towels,
Quilts and bedspreads,
The leavings of a life.
The leavings of a house.
The leavings of myself–
Without a proper winnowing,
And sold it all at Garage Sale prices.
In return, I thought I’d gained
What I’d always wanted.
But leave emptied
Of all my leavings
In the bluest eye.

I am a retired teacher, enjoying said retirement.  I have been active in the gay and lesbian community since I threw away my Ken doll at the age of four.

You can read more of my writing at Hearing The Mermaids Sing