TE16 Turkish Delight

Ten Poems

Once a Tailor

wear me out, make a tailor of what’s left of me, so there is no try-on! aching and hurting skin makes the body undo the stitches I was a tailor once, in meagre times I had a shop, my first shirt flew from my skin too soon, such desire now foreign to my heart cut me out some rain from your skin right where we grew apart, those scissors left the memory rusty! underground the button, no skin but solitude

desire’s now oversized

(tr. by Sehnaz Tahir)

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