& so i climbed the fig tree in my grandparent’s
backyard, so i sat there the entire summer of
my sixteenth year, ate nothing but figs –
unripe, overripe, hard, soft, juicy,
sweet, sticky, cracked open like my
palms on sunday morning
& so my teeth rotted brown, so i wasted away, so
the wind traced the lines of my ribs
instead of your lips
so my eyes turned purple and black, so my limbs were
more tree-branch than teenage girl,
so my hands sprouted leaves,
so the hair on my legs, the fuzz above my lip,
so i forgot words and spoke the tongue of
the august wind instead –
so what? so what?
—–
EKİN AYDOĞDU is from a small country in a small planet in a small corner of the dazzling cosmos. They are perpetually marvelling at the fact of their existence and try to honor it by creating small & beautiful things.
VAGABOND CITY 