Letter to Istanbul

And there you were,
teaching me the strange
names and peculiar weave
of your nation’s frayed and
radiant tapestry;

Mélange of language
painting the scarlet story,
undertones of black
division and aurulent
complements of someday’s hope;

There you were,
your cigarette waving
dangerously close
to your wild bronze curls,
coffee spoon balanced
on the white rim
of your sugar-laced cup,

a frenzy of passion and
blood-stained philosophies,
the unmistakable anomaly
and unusual grace of your brow
a landmark on the grey
provincial landscape;

There you were,
yesterday or perhaps
I am mistaken-

and now in the dreadful
lapse of uncertain hours
I’m begging every God
I ever spurned
to cast their wing over
your young lion’s heart.

Send news soon
of where this night finds you.
The earth as I know it
could never withstand
the grievous absence of
your luminescent soul.



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