The woman in the window

 

rinses her cup. Her husband’s

left for work. He binds books

in a room where dead flies collect

in the corners. Her son’s

boarded the bus for school.

 

She, knowing few of the intricacies

 

of workday life, considers

a second cup of coffee and stops.

She remembers what she dreamed:

her father dragging a rake

through grass and roots

in an Anatolian village.

 

As the lump in her breast

 

grows larger, she puts on a red skirt

and waits by the mirror

for light to fill the room again—

the sun of villages, and smooth,

rich, almost virgin soil.

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Carl Boon lives in Istanbul, where he directs the English prep school and teaches courses in literature at Yeni Yuzyil University. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Tulane Review, The Adirondack Review, The Bangalore Review, and Posit.

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