from my unpublished second collection
Troubled by strange dreams, a young monk crosses the furrows of the corn to do chores before breakfast.
Maybe tonight, right here, while the stars surround the ancient city of Des Moines
like a hood for a dark face, and faith has not yet leapfrogged over dawn, he'll come.
She wants to tell him that the cool water he pumped for her is delicious,
and for him to stroke her ears as softly and gently as he speaks to her
when he pulls the harness tighter, and leads them to work in the pale light.
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First published in Hayden’s Ferry Review
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images and text © by Alpay Ulku
