Bliss Poem by Adrianne Quinlan

Now I walk around with my glasses off.
The lint that begs to be picked.
The crumbs,
The bits of god-knows-what
On the red carpet are harder to see that way.

The forgotten drops of blood
From the bloody nose I sustained
In battle at the boundary
Have blended in,
And I hardly notice them at all.

And the specks of dust glittering in beams
Shines like flecks of gold in streams
At the happy pan-handlers wading boots.