Sight of the Visionless Eyes

Sight of the Visionless Eyes
by Dianne Marie Santos

I’d exchange with a blind’s eye: capturing
the picture of an eternal night,
eyes, oblivious to the mirage of loneliness.
Their senses depend
on the wood’s stabbing edges,
or the putrid scent pinching
ones nose. Not treacherous, invulnerable,
unlike sight--the traitor
pretending to see. For under the moonlight,
it showed me
among the shadows
cornered in the dimly lit
street, an embossed silhouette
you carry. Excitedly,
I ran towards it
to catch,
to be swallowed,
only by darkness.