Very Rough Draft
Istanbul – I must leave you!
because the night clanks through
your dark streets, mechanical and
the night is dragging itself and it sparks
and its sparks are only an approximation
of stars and yet everyone’s fields start to burn.
Even my field is aflame with the books
that I have written or have yet to be written
tonight the hills have an eerie glow
of war while the inside and the outside
of your walls argue, jealous of the other.
I am tired of all this!
Istanbul, I must leave you
hurry I must pack
my shadows, and my shirts.
My words have become
palsied, only an approximation
of a language
I must leave Istanbul
before my words fail me-
we must leave my love,
for even the moon
has left as a stowaway
to the sea.