What is this precious stone
placed in the palm's heart, or ear's drum?
From where you stood
a new language has replaced your standing
and it glides and arches about you,
revealing your weight by not striking any where.
You are the leftover space,
the blood rising under the tongue.
***
*Istanbul Metro
First I notice her other face
in the window her mirror reflection
I realize the only one she has ever lived with
and so it is full of heaviness and pull.
I am alone and so I can't but overhear
the two young woman across from me
coolly picking words from the air
and building a shelter of conversation.
and as they are sent hurtling,
delighted with the results
and shaking with laughter,
for the spangled moment
and nothing more,
The dim cabin made only for practicality
and the stale metro wind
add to the lightness,
that all of this will never come again.