In darkness,

the eye always works harder, as its photoreceptors
face the back of the head where there's no light.

He opens a book and misreads Snack for stack,
shelf for self, lesion for session. The doctor said

the speed of light, like recovery, is relative: 
many years span the distance before its arrival

at the eye of its beholder. Though we always treat it
like such a rarity only to be handled with white

cotton gloves, it is everywhere. It nestles 
even in the darkness which likes  to think  

itself a sponge, a mouth swallowing everything 
in its path; a gatekeeper, always greedy for tribute.


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