One of my favourite poems

Blind Choreography

Susan Buis

 

They told me the other senses

would rush in. Now the atmosphere

is shredded through trees, each

fragment scented, audible. The daft

joy of birds and the freeway's dirty rumble

knit with a green rot of garbage

coming from somewhere. I remember

 

watching blindfolded dancers

perform on a dark stage,

full of trust and body confidence.

Now, I move like a dancer

slowly through my own house,

toes, pelvis leading, fingers out.

I've become a skilled cartographer.

My handprints cover everything.

Now I hear walls' violet hum,

avoid the red-alarm corners of tables

rehearse maps for my stupid flesh. 

Source:

https://blr.med.nyu.edu/content/archive/2008/blindchoreography