it was supposed to be black
an absence
an occultation
an eclipse

but I looked closely

into the center
where your iris

pulsed open
and closed
and chose a middle distance
an aperture that worked

and it was not black

in its penumbral light
an iridescence of
loose fish scales

hummingbird throat

newly-flaked flint chip

new enough not to know
how not to cut

and so it did
but you never noticed

you went on
pressing and seeking

while the edge of your hand
went on and opened

a horizon of blood
a new eye
the fresh white you

of you