Once there was an I-less eye
that saw through saline seas
within a jar, upon a shelf
in a genetics company.

The eye would glimpse without a “why?”
at movements, colors, shapes:
a lump of liver, tick of clock
and threadbare yellow drapes.

It did not care when dust or spots
obscured its glass domain.
It just observed the measure and
dimension of each stain.

The blood was red. The table gray.
The patient had no hair.
The bright lights did not make it gasp.
The scalpel failed to scare.

And when it woke attached to both
a body and a mind.
It found an “I” within a blink
and quickly became blind.