3 Poems: Tunca Çaylant
Appellate
the wet signature on my letter
of resignation from tarry nights
you
the only exception of my loneliness
the longing for a world in which
Scorsese wins an Osssscar with “The Departed”
but tells the Academy to fuck off
you
the safety island I couldn’t pick out
as I stroll my way down to Dolmabahçe
and the alluring lipstick
of a brunette
so very beautiful
and potentially harmful
a hometown folk tune in Livatya
at 3:30 in the morning
you
one revolution away from blood-thirsty loves
in a village nearest to revolution
in the foothills of a volcano nearest to the village
as if crouching barefoot
and lighting up a cigarette
Nina Simone, my sister
don’t let me be misunderstood
you
like kissing Fidel’s hand visa-free in the Atlantic
there is the Akdeniz* to our south
if both seas start with the same letter
and if it is deemed acceptable
if the referee did not see this
breaking the routine with its climate
hot and dry in summer
cold and dry again in winter
rock rock and roll
the Taurus Mountains and the bend
if you are a Yoruk
those mountains have a well, named Peynirlikönü Cave
you are from there
like a dead friend**
drawing water out of the well
romantic as a single-armed hero
making history in wars
you
the only exception of my loneliness
*Akdeniz: The Mediterranean Sea in Turkish language.
**Mehmet Ali Özel: A Bogazici University Speleology Club member caver, who lost his life in August 2001 during a tragic flood disaster.
Words: Tunca Çaylant
Published: October 2018
assassinationability
Ohh,
How sad is that
Dethroned presidents are
No longer found
Worthy of assassination
requiem for men who can’t say “I love you”
I couldn’t seem sweeter than when I was
looking at you on that street
even in my childhood photos
when the power cuts out, I can find
like a handy thief
without breaking any stuff
the keyhole of your door
where the combi boiler pipe snakes out of your house
the corner of your favourite seat that you love falling asleep on
flower-selling gypsies are victims of urban transformation
the government hates parks
what if I mention taking flowers home
fuck flowers!
which garden, anyway, can smell better than your hair?
after a movie in Filmekimi festival
(say an Almodovar or a Jarmusch movie)
I can kiss your insidious aphtha for hours
if you didn’t make a promise to someone else
I would love to get caught together
in the anticipated big Istanbul earthquake
there isn’t a single deserted island left for us
at least one Starbucks on each of them
what would you say to sailing to a brand-new sea
in which we’ll be the first to swim
(afterall I trust my creativity about the “3 things”)
sometimes you know
when I can’t feel comfortable
unless siding with the underdog
I am the Kurd,
I also have friends
shall we be minority in different parts of the world?
this perfection of your sweaty curved back
I need to find out if it is seasonal
would it be going too far to ask:
can you stay until the winter has passed?
and finally, the day you leave me with a relentless goodbye
(or maybe not even finding me worthy of such one)
if I don’t go down to 10 men, while playing well
my heart would be assigned a trustee most likely
I lvoe oyu
footnote:
I did not intend to make
a foolish contribution to the popular belief that
men struggle hard to say “I love you”
I see now
I had underestimated you so badly
Tunca Çaylant graduated from Boğaziçi University with a degree in Management Information Systems. He currently works as a freelance editor and translator in Istanbul, Turkey. His poems have appeared in several national and international magazines, as well as the Black Poetry Anthology. His first book of poetry, Araftar, was published by Yasakmeyve in 2015.
