Seeing as it Is by
Ocean Vuong
In the hospital room’s white
indifference, a small girl waits
while gloved hands unravel layers
of gauze from her eyes.
She will see for the first time
the objects we’ve limited
through naming. The gauze falls,
light enters her pupils, diffracts
like ribbons falling
in an empty room.
She steps to the window
where a city sparkles a million
reflections of sunlight. And there,
against the morning skyline,
a plane veers, smashes into
that great tower. Without a sound,
a breath of fire spews
into immaculate blue.
A slow river of smoke
flows across the sky.
She imagines that this
is the image of music
as she presses her nose to the glass
and says without blinking
Mommy,
you were right. This world
is beautiful.