A Hot Summer Afternoon

the sound ofthe summoning to prayer..ezan...the workmen destructing the building to soil....men are openin g there hands to sky...to cry....a bit...the carrying what to their nests...to their barns...for winter...a beauty combing her long hair in the mirror...my mother crying again...remembering my dead father...complaining from us....the birds are migrating to other lands..a wind blows her hot breath.....on our faces...in a flower pot....a flower suicides...

poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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