Previous Page Index Next Page
Murat Nemet-Nejat's Page Poetry Pages in English

Houri's Rose

I'm crying exactly in the middle of the rose
As I die every evening in the middle of the street
Not knowing my front from my back in the dark
As I sense, I sense the receding of your eyes
Which prop me up.

I hold back your hands, kiss them in the night
Your hands are white, again white, again white,
I'm afraid that your hands are so white
That a caboose in the station somewhat
I'm late at the station sometime

Palming the rose I'm rubbing it on my face
Which Houri dropped in the street,
My arms are broken, my wings,
In a red, catastrophic music,
At the other end of the reed
A brand new, gold toothed shyster.

             Murat Nemet-Nejat
             The Exquisite Corpse, 1993