A Cosmological Feast (For M)

 

The urge to wait on the line

As the music

Gets distorted

And ugly

Pulling the hair on your body

Away

The courage to wait

In that moment

And to say

N as Nancy

A as Apple

Z as Zebra

Not knowing how to continue the rest

Seventeen letters in total

Half an alphabet

 

Begging the letters to help you

Knowing that they won’t

 

As the tongue delves into the sea

Of sorrow

dark and sticky

 

But keeping the urge

And to wait

To be able to hold

 

Your self along the letters

The monstrous self

                             in their words

 

With a mirror in hand

Broken or not broken

Holding on

Or letting go

Depending on where you stand

                                                in relation

 

So wave at your neighbour

As the muddy tune continues

within the tunnels of your ears

Think of Etel

Who was born today

 

The day a war starts somewhere far away

 

So with a broken accent

Hold there

Think about Tamalpais

And the moist roots forming below

 

You don’t have the privilege to mourn

So eat those words for lunch

Juicy round-shaped half moons

A broken orbit

The icy moon

And the heated sun

 

Put them into your mouth one by one

Feel them slide down

 

A cosmological feast

At the end of the world

 

Enjoy

 

 

this

 

the distance i build

with my hands

with the language i have

not the language i have

but the language i gained

with my hands

the distance 

i created

between me and this

this distance

built

here

comforting my tongue

and touching my shoulders

and saying

calm down

this

is

not

real

the distance

i mean

the illusion

of the distance

between 

you and me

 

 

try

 

remember 

the house 

in our backyard

remember the woman

the old one

remember the reality

now distance it 

from the dreams

now try to remember the house

again

now you are left with

no house

with your hands open

now try to remember

one last time

the house

now try to distance it

from the woman

too old 

to be young

try

one last time

open your hands

try

 

 

Naz Cuguoğlu is a curator and poet based in San Francisco and Istanbul. She is the co-founder of Collective Çukurcuma, experimenting with collaborative thinking through reading groups. Her writings have been featured in SFMOMA Open Space, Art Asia Pacific, Hyperallergic, Nka: Journal of Contemporary African Art, M-est.org and elsewhere.

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