I, a human being with eyes that swim
in aqueous humor, hold a hand out
in absolute darkness and cannot see it.
You splash a few feet, fin filaments lolling.
Imagine the gall not to need light at all,
as if you, blindcat, were not breaking
the surface of a subterranean lake,
but floating in outer space. With those
spineless dorsal fins, you push against
water so half-heartedly, free from the tyranny
of a light cycle, laze around in all that ink.
Imagine the mind that could withstand
total darkness, eyelids sewn shut over retinae,
blood pulsing under translucent skin.