by Ece Apaydin
Available with the leftovers from dust. your hands. called a will into being (those carved from the sun)
when I wish a higgledy-piggledy from myself now I remember (cross eclipses)
when I stand alone like this I understand. your hands they really were (so many things are hidden in its cell)
also this expectancy. Closed
A satire. it was not absent (battery bearings are empty)
blue trains enjoyed they enjoyed at most (in my childhood)
those leftovers from dust. those residuals. don’t remind me. you dare! Don’t tell me (blue)
you get off a train (trains are always the female of the blue)
in this expectancy. its lost
Your hands. closed to forgetting. just like the letters (such as flowers)
the anise flags in the bottles which its seagulls are flown (your hands)
it was your smile which is a dormitory in your health (it was)
it was not absent. an itchy damn sense (your hands and eyes)
in this expectancy. the rustling of an hearth
Whenever I look at you the seagulls became abusive
ECE APAYDIN
Last updated June 12, 2016