This has become a kind of experiment. This is a second love letter. This one to Joshua Darling, using the same footage but edited differently. Josh has a fetish for watching women put on makeup, so this is for him. The tone of this is a little different.
A poem to go with this one as well.
The cult of the closed eye
Sovereign Syre
dawn filters through the bare branches,
runs its fingers through the brush ’till it glistens,
reaches through the chill of the window over the bed
and stretches the green iris back to stroke the darkness
until your eyes become endless hallways leading to their entrance.
see how my naked body burns in the red glow of the retina,
then slips behind the iris, shy, when you turn away
a stray lash closes your eye,
hold still while i tease it out,
tongue to lens, with a brackish kiss.
see how the pupils bloom like hungry mouths
in the canopy of my hair, when i lay my hands
on your forehead and move in.
how the iris vibrates under my sting,
how the wet lids lower to fix
the tiny catalyst stuck to my flushed lip
see how they compose the world like a parent’s bedroom through a cracked door,
piece by piece.
In the dark blond field out back,
puddles shine up between the damp foxtails
like half buried mirrors,
having only the rootless echo of trees
to paint the landscape just outside their edges.
all poems copyright.
