AS-You Raven

You’re like the raven Sure you don’t come from heaven You croak of some ill Deep inside me I feel We’ll separate dancing To the Chattanooga Choo Choo And to the Moonlight Serenade I’ll listen to Enigmas’ Mea Culpa Sipping an acrid lemonade Far away from you in my abyss I’ll begin humming a popular air All the time concocting the most daring snare I’ll show a savage mingling of two tastes fair Two’s a company three’s a crowd I’ll kick the third person aside In three bounds I’d fall upon pride I’ll make you stoop to conquer Before someone other make you A potential prey For a passion darker Darker than the raven... Ayten Suvak

AS-The Broken Tiles

The water leaks the neighbours complain- I live in a broken mug It’s early morning. The sun’s rising in the east. I open the door of my room, then the windows. I let the fresh air in. I feel the soothing effect of water on my cheeks. In the nearby hospital the staff’s having their early breakfast. Cats are still asleep under the bushes. A crow is on top of the pine tree, another one’s crowing on the acacia.. Men and women are preparing their vehicles for the megacity’s traffic jam in that oppressive heat. I start the daily chores after a while. I take the eggplants, zucchinis, domatoes, green peppers and whatever vegetable I can hold of, out of the fridge. I’ll be cooking a summer dish which I call summersolstice. Soon potable water delivery man is going to ring the bell. Oh, there’s a knock at the door already, but he’s carrying no demijohn on his shoulder. “Sorry if I disturb you at that hour, but there’re some drops of water leaking into my bathroom from yours.” A shudder runs down my spine; I watch the articulation of this sentence on my neighbour’s mouth, my eyes wide open. His words bursting out rapidly are stumbling over one another. In my perplexity I can realise that I’m going to play the most desperate housewife till the broken tiles will be mended properly. Cats can be meowing the noise of the drill in my head- I only hear the plumber Ayten Suvak

AS-No More...

No More... No more thoughts of him Than of a bit of orange peel She won’t hear his name even For the sake of the past she’ll count till seven Before she burns her restless imagination In the vortex of heaven She’s ready to give him a kick To such a fair game of everyone’s wit As she unfolds the allegory In the way to calm and subdue her fancy Which mistook an orange for his head She smashed the fruit in both hands... Ayten Suvak

AS-I Love Freedom...

I Love Freedom and Recognize No Ties You must not regard yourself as bound But with me you’ll always be safe and sound Separation won’t be a question of life and destiny Love is not a cut-and-dried plan without mistery She said aloud after him If my lucky star is at work She added as if in a dream Her tone very proud Her expression grim She exclaimed once again I’ll rob the heart of that clerk He said the serpentlike eloquent tail Of the letter S of my name Reminded him of my lovely curves So I won’t tax him With bedeviling questions With his eloquent remarks He has already won my heart I say that’s a fresh start Wonders would never cease Eyes fixed upon eyes Hand clasping hand Our two S’s would linger With ease in a revery What is to be will be freely... Ayten Suvak

AS-Rushing Up...

AS-I Dash Up Mommy...

I Dash Up... Night’s over I join the rush- Dishes in the sink It’s early morning. I can see the rising sun dimly behind the curtains. I can hear a long cock-a-doodle-doo come from the rare orchards left among the packing-box order of architecture. The voice is followed by a few bars of tomcats’ brawls and ended with a loud engine alarm. It’s now broad gray daylight. Businessmen, businesswomen are leaving their homes with a guiless air for skyscapers where they work. There’s a nasty smog in the air. I’m a trifle uneasy. My mother will soon start complaining of her rheumatism; my father will soon call me to his aid to tend the artificial eye he carries after his glaucoma surgery. My parents the authors of my being- Two dry leaves I wonder if I’ll have time today to read my two new books purchased weeks ago. A cry of despair I let fall a plate- Both my parents are on the floor Ayten Suvak

AS-Coming From The Id

Coming From the Id Somewhere a dove is cooing A navigating fly among flowers In my ear I hear his voice Life is spinning round I see worker bees in the hive In my mouth the taste of honey Everywhere I see nereids Oh Freud, don’t talk again of id Actually I love Aeneid Ayten Suvak