Elegy For The Butterflies That Forgot To Die Poem by Dilhun Bocek

A silent scream slips from my tongue,
I'm slicing the bread into blood
And feeding it to stray kittens.
The elegy bird circles above my head
these days,
I'm either watching from a far
Or failing to grisp the distance-
Either way, I pray these days,
thorned prays.
A handful of mallows sown
İnto a smile,
The harsh handcuff
Of black death clamped on my wrists,
Look- your imprint stains
The hallow of my soul!
Possibilities lost to negligenge,
Babies still burning,
though turned to ash;
futile desires left behind
By quite summer evenings-
Now at the mercy
Of the blackest winter,
Are the butterflies
That forgot how to die.