Polly by Robert van Vliet

Polly

I gave her permission: if she
was ready, it was okay. And
a few hours later, she slipped out

without leaving the room. Grey
reaching for blue while turning toward
green. Like Athene. As unlike

her mother as possible. Sprung
from her father alone. Those eyes
swimming, serene at last after

a lifetime of seeming always
worried. I was the last to see
them open, unseeing. I have

my mother’s eyes. So now
I know how my unseeing eyes
will seem when I at last slip out.

by Robert van Vliet

Twitter: @_robertvanvliet

Editor’s Note: The enjambment in this poem is particularly well done because it perfectly captures the sense of a person slipping away, while also illustrating the emotional uncertainty of the speaker.