Jill Rees: Welcome Press

It’s not

It’s not your blue eyes
that tempted me,
nor your hair that billows
like the Black Sea.
It’s not your mouth
that grips a hard line
that I have to make smile.
Not your piercing mind,
your harsh wit,
or the way your perceive
wrongs through your skin;
nor your feet as you march
in a hurry with life,
as if beginning an endless path.
Nor when you look at me
as if there is nothing else,
like the moon cloudy and red
over Uzkadar. Not the Strait
which you see as an obstacle,
a bridge to cross,
not the wait for papers, no!

It is the simple sum
of one plus one,
it’s fate, the vastness of the sea
and the sight of land to reach.

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Tags: Istanbul, Poetry