Looking at You

/, Blesok no. 99/Looking at You

Looking at You

Looking at You
Imagined Conversation
Am I to you?
Funeral Notice
Bike
Reality
One Out of Three

The terminal is useless
if we are not going to meet
our memories shouldering

cider and chips as they slide
from the ferry. Every morning
I iron memories of my old love,

straight, flat and pregnant
with childish questions
I dreamed then forgot.

I keep her photos ready, alien
on the blue bedspread as pirates
on a quiet blue lake,

like a crossword stuck
in the corner of my life
would she like to answer

my call for a third night with Nastenka?
All the facades in Baharive street are so clever
they know she still hides herself in brown cardigans

but I wonder why she won’t go out
when there are no clouds
in her pockets.

When we finished our final tea
Istanbul quit repeating itself
and I took off my redundancies.

Reality can be softened
by daises, cut and waiting
in a vase I never bought

and just now
the first rain
of autumn begins.

Trans. by Ryan van Winkle

2018-08-21T17:22:36+00:00 November 9th, 2014|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 99|0 Comments