Untitled, by Yigit Kerim Arslan

Posted on November 19, 2019

The one that will come at the end of morning

What was I told behind the shivering water,

I listened by escaping from myself. (But I don’t

know, why that is. I commit suicide every

morning for this) the moon is getting lazy every

day. He had a neck ache by the time. My love

will clean my child’s sweat. The child will get

off the bike or fall from it.

I’ll die until thenI’ll be bored and I’ll need to put a dot.

Not a triple dot only a dot. If somebody

understood, I would wear away on every

breath.

Smile, star, sparking, frustrated, I sit down in

front of it like the sourness of an old photo. It

has no street. It killed me with the calmness of

morning. I shut up! He had a charm on his neck.

Sleeplessness of the day: The flower going to

death before my eyes. First they cut her arms. It

made me mad, that is what they said. The sun

rise, the sadness of time. My vines shaking off, it

was refreshed. The fall was just starting, just fall

Fall just fall! Cry! Cry. cry. . . He smashed my

rose with a rock

*Miletus*

International Literature Magazine

Summer 2019