Sartorial Poem by Koray Feyiz
Sartorial
I mean the rain you drop in my voice
like a cloth cut by scissors, bridling its mare
and my hand sniggering in lust
though a smell of a banana
in an old part of this city, all alone
in hotel rooms and on brass beds
dirtiest hours of my face
a sartor with winter night face
Koray Feyiz
Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: love,love and art,love and life
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5/10/2024 9:44:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
