I Cypriot
prone to be angry, tend to be rebellion
When I'm gone from you I am at the first place
calls by our tongue's
astonished our lips
it were the order of the occupation
parachutes
now
at the narrow streets
foreign glances
nameless graves
Were they the plural of patience?
any time throwing loop
to life
gossipy evenings
at mid-morning
vomit's me
I Cypriot
tend to disappear
My heart establishes
a mouthful
dream
there at the end I'm from here.


Günsel Djemal Elüstün 24/11/2014