by Nick Gisburne
Her blue, electric eyes repeat the scan,
But nothing in the data sparks her sight.
How strange that such a charismatic man
Is clean, without malevolence or bite.
Impossible. To fail would find the first,
A soul without a secret, or a past.
She wallows in the flux, the flow, submersed,
But every file is flawless, to the last.
Too perfect. Nothing tells her more than that.
What evidence there was is gone, erased.
Her eyes ablaze, they penetrate the fat.
Reversing what was lost, the truth is traced.
She finds a disappointment, no surprise,
His mind no match for blue, electric eyes.
