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Hold My Dead Branches!

Hold My Dead Branches!

Hold My Dead Branches!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our new coloumnist Serpil Devrim was born in 1960 in Istanbul. Many of her poems and short stories were published in different antologies and literature magazines in Turkey, translated in different languages and published literature magazines in different countries.

We say welcome to her among us in the newspaper Notre Anatolie …”

 

 

Hold My Dead Branches!

 

“my soul was a door handle

Hold My Dead Branches!as my mind never matched the steps”

 

 

 

the brunette refugee child with otherworldly descriptions

who lands down on the cage of my chest fluttering

your face is the gap called wound this evening

 

 

your eyes were a single country, the whole earth

the insensitivity of this era is a death trap

the thundering robbery, plunder, pillage of an avalanche

with its cooperative loam the red-brown marsh

 

 

depth and the subsiding weight do go away

lacking humanity that makes it lose its way

it has no roof to wash ashore or to take shelter

in September the unhugged body the surplus of water

 

 

the iceberg drifting from where it belongs is just like you

woven for the outer world a long time ago

its fragile body lessens by moments, from which

it adds itself to the water that will drown us all

 

 

wherever I turn the speed of light is the same

one’s circle, occasionally recurring mercy sprinkle

which pours down on the sift of the sky

from a long distance

 

 

Hold my dead branches! Hold my dead branches!

let the dead leaf fall!

let my crooked branch flatten…

 

 

 

serpil1devrim@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

Serpil Devrim / Bizim Anadolu / January 30th, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

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