TEA Poem by Gülten Akin

The sound of nightingales, of flushing strawberries
in his hand held out to me
weak morning tea
agitated ease
somehow we had grown used to living like culprits

where, where should we hide them
our souls that he closed we closed tightly
now (for the first time?) brush off one another
the sea flattened out flattened out and disappeared
we in a dream, but for the sound of the boats of the fishermen
the mountains dark and violet
surely so surely they approached and overran us
we the lost in the land of the lost
brushed
silence with the wing of a sparrow

we denied
the sky, the heavy clouds, the bay
all that sank without a trace
the evening, passing through the old voices of the neighbors
in the taste of apple and yoghurt

drew us down into the depths