Farewell

I wish that these words
were emeralds

I wish that these words
were emeralds
not penned between points
en route to Delhi but

camel carried from broken lands
to Istanbul
where your wailing

song beats
the cool white brick

the warm blue tile.

That Bosporus saline etch
where East and West mingle
take myrrh and sprinkle it, let
flaccid sails unfurl

thrum taut; groaning
embrace the salted gulf
between us

your many-dreamed return
on worrying wind

from Istanbul.

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