- Non-Erotic Poetry
- from Istanbul (07-09-05)
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from Istanbul (07-09-05)
To minarets, the echoed call
loudspeaker prayer – a chant
a drone, intonation
on vibrant streets alive
in the fresh smell of fish
the trace of perfume
dark hair and the long, thin gait
perfect touchable curve
silent, forbidden grace…
A screech of language
the shouts, car horns
sounded on red tile roofs
and the persistent chime
Turkcell pierced ears
a voice, her soft cheek – dark eyes
imagined words, a possibility
probability? None,
but the light changes, pedestrians
scurry over cobblestone, wet, slick
sliding past scooters, motorcycles
clicking heels and tight ass jeans
the moist ooze of sweat and sex
so ardently brash, beautiful…
suddenly black, flat dark
burn of eyes though narrow slit
solemn berkaed flow, wool
scratched at his fingertips.
Water, barges and the long
suspended bridge touching Asia
from Europe with mosques
aging domes, limestone, plaster
again the call to prayer
rich, deep melody beyond the lush
red lips of the checkout girl:
five million lira change
her smile wonderfully worldly – whole.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozalmost 16 years agoThis poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,500 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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J.Doeover 18 years agoCreative word choices, new and different. Most importantly, this poem is so alive, it breathes.
