your eyes inside out

Poet and writer Jess Nauta fabricates the poem "Alex" inspired by French street artist JR, whose work was exhibited in Toronto's annual art festival Nuit Blanche. 


I'll find you behind your eyes,
then on a bad day, between my fingers.
I'll do what I like
and you'll watch because you're not
doing anything.
Maybe this time I wont write about
you in pencil. You ask
me to run through the Louvre with you
because you'd like to write a screenplay
and you're pretentious as hell.

And they said, “o Alex”,
and I said , “o Alex”, too.
Even the trees walked in your movie.

I'll wonder
(for the rest on my life, probably)
if my skirt was too short
or if I had too much
to drink.
My liver isn't what it used to be.
I know you've never liked the taste.
I'll tell you,
I still write in pencil. Only now
I keep the eraser on the other side of the door.
And you wont know the difference
because you’re not here.

I spent the entire evening looking down
at my stockings
because they're ripped
and they don't have eyes themselves.
I'd look at you, you know, but
I can't tell if your eyes are blue
or grey
and I can't bring myself to check.


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