The blind
whisper to each other
in rinsed voices.
They ask me to describe
darkness. I begin
with the charred edge
of the sea, winds trapped
in caves, a wheel turning
away from itself.
I have gone
into the hollow place
behind my eyes,
to the outer edge
of sight moving
on white lizard feet.
No longer blinded
by the visible, the world
is nearer in the dark.
Light sinks
inward to its core
and the wind
on its ghost crutch
brushes the limits of a star.
anon