Darling, d'you think you can't see as you did?
Then find inside this battered tin,
this tin that smells of cold metal and rust,
these steel-rimmed spectacles. Hook them on,
for I want you to see as you did again.
Others have. Those who've aged, or lost,
have worn them a while, and regained
lovers or sons, memories or minds,
then returned to their lives, less vague, less blind.
Now look straight at me and say what you see.
Tell me I look as I looked before,
that you feel as you felt. That I'm yours.
from Little Gods (Picador, 2006), © Jacob Polley 2006, used by permission of the author, c/o Rogers Coleridge & White Ltd, 20 Powis Mews, London W11 1JN.