Irises and Ecstasy

and a bowl of drippy honey

Frida Castelli, from the Piaceri Vari series

Irises that smell like
grape jolly ranchers and
inner stillness
swirling paradoxically.
Auditory silence. Gifts
from the ether.
Mystic enchantment.

The bowl of honey 
in my pelvis, pouring
wildly. Ecstasy
my dance, ecstasy
I breathe, ecstasy
in ink leaps 
off the page and
purrs between my legs.
Warm tingling, eyes closing,
a golden center 
emanating rich amber, crimson,
violet in my spine, I smile
at nothing and everything 
becomes me, and the breeze is
orgasmic and across the street, 
the leaves have an orgy 
and still, I’m purring,
my hands tracing sacred space,
impressions made in ecstasy,
ecstasy! I sing! 
My throat is brightening, please 
won’t you, my beloved,
peer inside my dripping?
Lick my bowl of honey clean?

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