don’t have eyes, but they have light—

sensitive receptors in their skin. Especially their front end.

If exposed for more than an hour,

they can

be stunned.

She saw not her own reflection, but a tall, empty vase—

prickling violet thistle of her mouth

humming gold thread of her lie

the ferns, green and strong, up to her waist    

tall as a child wrapped around her leg

the long, fuzzy stamen folding into the oily basin

her feet, already in wet cement

The blackest parts of her eyes grew darker, her petulance moulted

and she looked on herself in wonder

she had almost died of thirst

almost died

thirsty

At dawn

a pile of worms thrashed in the garden,

something that could,

and would,

be solved in the dark light typical of the companionship they kept.

Her eyes were very dark,

and grey,

but at night the coldness leached from them

like permafrost

like icicles melting from prehistoric caves, abandoning the possibility of killing.