At the Corner of the Eye

by Patricia Hooper

In Science, years ago,
the teacher assigned homework:
study the night sky,
wait till a star flickers
at the corner of the eye,
then turn to face it squarely
and see it disappear.
I watched, amazed: stars glittered
and vanished, reappeared
just as I turned away.
They were the herons rising
over the field the day
I searched for tadpoles, watching
the blue sky of the pond, then saw it pulse with wings.
Or they were someone’s face
half-glimpsed, a look I’d longed for,
that vanished when I looked.
Or they were something else:
a vision, seen askance,
that flickered in the mind,
an unexpected light
I turned to recognize,
then looked for all my life
and never saw again.