from my unpublished second collection
Deep sleep, the muscles of your face reposed: your death mask; there, then gone.
And again, in the mirror, brushing your teeth. And again, the cat on your lap.
On the train, the reading light dimmed, a halo.
In the morning, you deadhead the spent flowers and give the rest a drink.
A few minutes while the sky grows light.
Then work, of course.
On the terrace, dressed for dinner. On the train, beside another death’s head, sleeping.
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First published in Agni
Return to Home Page images and text © by Alpay Ulku
