Foveola

The middle of the eye keeps no blue. I read it this morning under a lid of cloud that wasn't offering any.

A few were there once, week ten, week twelve, and the old story was that they stepped aside to let the sharp work happen.

Now the lab says, mostly, no: they stayed, and were changed, red or green, by a hormone that also sets how warm we run.

So whatever I fix on, the cup, the line, your face across this table, I see with cells that were talked out of blue.

The sky, when it comes back, I'll get from the edges, the way you get the weather from a window you're not quite facing.