—A condition where cells in a region of the retina waste away and die.
Sometimes these regions of atrophy look like a map to doctors.

You remember this from childhood.
An island drawn on a paper placemat,
the back of a spelling test.

An escape map. A lonely shore
where you have been tossed by fate.
Let’s call it Castaway Bay.

Consider that long promontory. Does it end
in a reef where many a vessel has burst?
Label it Cape Catastrophe.

That depression in the island’s center
can only be Devil’s Fen, from which
nothing emerges into light.

A deep cove carves the dunes.
Make that Blindman’s Reach,
for the one who dwelt there alone.

Sketch in forests, high rocks, trails
the feet can barely feel. Abandoned
caves holding traces of old fires.

What spot will you mark with an X
of crossed bones? What treasure is there
to be imagined? What remains?

Fray and singe the edges of your map.
Crumple it, shove it down a pocket.
The voyage takes years. By the time

you arrive you’ll be old enough
for the riddle: What is the use
of a map of nothing?

You’ve come to emptiness,
a void in the vast Optic Sea.
The only X is the one at your feet

that says YOU ARE HERE.
And here you are, vanishing
before your very eyes.