Poetry Monday: Istanbul

OMGYOUGUYS. It's another Poetry Monday! I can't get enough of these. I don't want to sound like I'm mad bragging or anything, but I know some insanely talented people and their genius has got to rub off on me at some point so REMEMBER THIS FACE.

Today's work of art comes from the indomitable Claire, professional writer, cook, and karaokyer.

Istanbul, by Claire Bullen

We wake sucking on the milkfat mornings,

the hour in its last stage of night-bruise.

Like emperors, centuries ago,

who woke to find their jaguars and take 

them strolling through the rosebushes.

Now the city wakes with a riot of sheep

in the basement, a dusty football, and

taxis that speed up the uneven hill.

We breakfast like emperors: sucking on petals

in tea and cakes and smoke.

On a ferry over bright-dark Bosphorus,

we fly faster than emperors could dream, 

savouring the word like rose candy: Bosphorus, 

Bosphorus, Bosphorus, past the blooming

buses that drop their sweating cargo into Asia.

In the evenings, campfires spill across highways

and birds wheel, crazily, around the minarets.

Like emperors, we sharp-laugh into the night 

from the vantage of our temporary palaces.

First we are timeless. Then we are cargo.

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Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss