Drowned Iris by Swan Her eyes are purple, bruised iris purple only he knows how to mix. He swathes her in amethyst, agate, rose quartz. Her robes fall in harsh stiff painted folds. She is becoming a cathedral. Her hands cup protectively the child's fragile skull. She knows something is waiting for them. If it were not for her startled wary iris eyes, she could fly from her robes, the candles, the barren stone face which will soon be her face, from the maimed, hungry, fallen, so wanting. They kiss her until there is nothing left, no mouth, no eyes, their own lips stained the purple stillness of a drowned woman's skin. Units of indifference by Miruna Poienaru Deaf indifference Now I ask for leniency Seeking a gram of excellence Looking for a drop of essence. Ending by Swan I dream, the earth splitting like a cracked egg, Light thinning like dye in water. Air hardens until we burrow. I wake wanting to know if we will fall. An apocalypse is an ending This is a becoming. |
Paintings from Dream in a square cycle by Stefy Janeva
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