ROOM #789

We two were in love with the same woman of the wind

You married her knowing my presence and her coffee

And put up with the nameless cats she endlessly kissed.

Being friends for ages, she always wanted to have breakfast

with me, no, she sometimes wanted me to see her to see, like Emily,

when you had to watch a weekend-football-game on TV,

Only then was I chosen to be a mate for coffee by the sea.

All throughout the twelve years of love’s grinding labour

She once asked me to knead her shoulders near you

And thanked me whispering how healing hands I had.

I seemed not to hear the red in your stray dog looks

You heard her cypress tree murmur me my long lost thrush

And I couldn’t see the jinns loitering in your coffee berry

We two were coronated sister and brother for sure

We two were Mary Anne’s Tom and Maggie in eternity.

And there she was lying in her snow-ridden early death-bed

She asked nobody in the hospital room, quietly nobody else

but me to rub off the pain in her slowly purpling ankles

and the feet that took her beyond the blossoming city hills

and the feet that passed by endless shops and island palaces

and the feet that defied gravity in some Holly Golightly rush

and the feet that never braked when I was singing freely.

We three took our sacks of wheat to the mill of Istanbul love

You got the woman, I got to name the two cats after her and tea.

April 20, 2020