I Could Have Loved You Better, I Could Have Loved You More

I Could Have Loved You Better, I Could Have Loved You More Susan Carroll Jewell (bio) We don't think about how eyes workuntil they don't. Eyes fail like fog, quietly,without fanfare. Nerves go bad, layersof cells stretch and split, some hang onlike fruit, failing not with a snapbut withering in the steadfast sun. We don't think about how light worksuntil it doesn't. I can see but nothing is clear.No dark blindness, but water in moonlightveiling street names and house numberslong before I can get home. No straightedges to hold onto, no depth to perceive. We never think about how love worksuntil it doesn't—we lose it in bits and flashesuntil we're underwater, eyes wide open,denying what everyone else sees. A poetas blind as Homer watches Odysseus tossedto a rocky coast, still spinning his epic tale. [End Page 136] Susan Carroll Jewell Susan Carroll Jewell has published poetry in Midwest Quarterly, IHLR, Rattle, The Fourth River, Still Point, Stone Canoe, Passager, Comstock and elsewhere. She has earned degrees from Keuka College, the University of Virginia, and the University at Albany. Susan is legally blind from degenerative myopia, which has slowed her but not stopped her. She lives and writes in Upstate New York and does her own taxes.