I can see your lion’s eye
as the sprawling sun makes your iris gleam.
That soft brown shows its true self:
a wild orange starburst
with acid algae bloom. I intuit
how your eye feels from the inside.
I see things even you don’t know—
you don’t know you’re a lion.
The pupil, though curled up tight,
is still pure black, omniscient
yet obscure.
Your moment of clarity
has an invisible core.