At uni a blind boy I knew recognised me by voice
in the dull brown-carpeted corridors of our residential college.
He could see vague shapes and shadows, nebulous, numinous movement,
carried his soup carefully, nose to the steaming surface to the nearest table
and ate hunched over. Once, I surprised him before the mirror
in the toilets wearing thick square glasses straining to see his reflection
and he whipped them off and pocketed them so quickly
that it must have seemed when he turned to leave
he had executed his sleight of hand flawlessly.
Later having beers in our respective fogs,
the light on me and him like anyone, I never spoke of it
but wondered was it so quick the turning for the door,
the lowered shoulder hurry that he never knew it was me
who had caught him looking for the flaws in his appearance?