Accessibility

You’re in a box, you often

Remind yourselves, although it

Took you long enough to learn

As much—a small, sensory

Deprivation box. Seeing

Out of the box proved the box,

Proved there were more things to see

Than human eyes could. At first

It seemed pure discovery.

Early lensmen were accused

Of lying about their moons,

Monster blobs in ditchwater—

Or, if not lying, blinding

Imagination’s angels.

Even now, disenchantment

Is the paradoxical

Catcall against those who seek,

Through prosthetic devices,

The vast worlds outside boxes,

Waves too deep for lives to count,

Waves so long they’re gravity.

No one doubts you’re boxed, though, now,

Awareness sensorily

Impaired, bound, restricted,

Dependent on assistive

Technologies to peek past

Old tales and angels. You’ll see.