by Ece Apaydin
The ambition of the endurance to myself. myself in the threshold
insignias that I grew from wild cyclamen love
due to the agelong sagging of grief perhaps
capillary rains in diluted fabrics
the desertedness of black from three times washed white
importunate herbs that I carried on my legs like a magic
It’s steps are in pyrenes
African eagles are nested on its belt.
its steps came back for rewarding me.
the childish geometry.
the wall of the weight
children are within its steps
colored eggs have washed ashore
of life.
Came back. to turn my sleep
to the naked roof of forgetfulness left me
a moon from a carbuncle that the head is crushed with rusty mallets
was in its opposition. courtyards were the collage
of its wings-whipped life
Three days-three nights, hill and dale, father and husband courtyards
nothing is changed nothing looking at the street
nothing collapsed in a heap like this
offended into itself such as wheat sacks -until the evening- mouth is bounded
For a moment its heard just the wheedling of the trees-on the way back
no more doubt is left to be herded
ECE APAYDIN
Last updated June 12, 2016