Blind Poem by Zog Gascoigne

The old stone wall stands tall,
A ghetto to imprison the different.

Below it -
Her eyes sit in their sockets,
One a marble and one a squashed grape.
Below that her mouth is like grain,
On a weathered piece of wood.

On her cloak,
A badge,
A paracetamol calling out about the blackness crouched in front of her.

Around her neck,
A sign,
A rear-view mirror reflecting only darkness.

Wrapped around her,
A black cloak,
A shroud of everlasting night.