Unblinking Eye

Red light blinks—a slow heartbeat

above the back door.

Laughter breaks the night,

a group of kids spilling noise

under cold flickering lamps.

Their glances flick upward,

nervous shadows crossing faces,

a black dome turns, watches

slow, relentless.

Nothing missed.

Every step, every breath recorded,

the quiet press of watching

underneath a streetlamp’s glow.

Unblinking, it holds us,

a witness made of glass and wire,

catching moments we try

to forget.