waking in istanbul

the first sound: a seagull scream / second: a
minibus grinding into gear / third: ezan, like
light through a sieve /
i forget where i am / then remember too hard /
balkondaki çamaşırlar rüzgârda dans ediyor /
as if nothing’s wrong / as if fabric still believes in bodies / my
cousin makes tea / six sugars, always /
“sen nasıl içiyorsun?” /
i say plain / and she winces /
plain is for sadness / for exile /
for people who forgot how to stay sweet /
i sip anyway /
burn my lip just a little /
some homes need proof / that you came back.