2004 - Vol. 1, Issue 3

PETUNIA: age 23, a cultural "hottie" — tall, thin, and beautiful.

CAT: her therapist, Late thirties to any age.

PETUNIA: Dr. Cat, am I a failure as a woman?

CAT: You're asking whom?

PETUNIA: You.

CAT: Why me?

PETUNIA: Because you're prosperous, beautiful, and your office is bigger than my apartment.

CAT: Look harder, Petunia. You don't know what my bills are, or how little is left after paying them.

Recently I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with a new condition: blepharitis. Because I studied Latin in high school I immediately understood the problem; I have an inflammation ("itis") of my blephar ("blephar"). How embarrassing.

Still, I feel it's important for me to "come out" about what I am facing to lessen the shame, silence, and stigma that surrounds this disease. Actually, when my eye doctor told me I had blepharitis I had no idea what she was talking about. Thank goodness she provided me with an information sheet on blepharitis from the American Optometric Association. It states, "Blepharitis is a chronic or long term inflammation of the eyelids and eyelashes. . . . Among the most common causes of blepharitis are:

• poor eyelid hygiene

• excess oil produced by the glands in the eyelids

• a bacterial infection

• an allergic reaction

Window blinds slice morning sun.
Shadow and light
fall on translucent skin,
on black sheets
blending with black hair,
making material
the chiaroscuro of our relationship.
Black eyes burn into yours.
I'm black and white.
I'm colorless, I joke.
Far from it, you say. You're radiant.