“My love life is terrible. The last time I was inside a woman was
when I visited the Statue of Liberty.”
Woody Allen
a traveler afield there
meanderingly ascends the lips
– from the interior stairs –
of a woman with a skin of copper color:
yankee, go home!
yankee, go home!
i have never a love, woody
i have never written her name in any place
it was so, because loves could get kinky
with the sounds of a tawse
what was that liberty!
intestines disposed to explode
several sips of coke,
signs and the other…
perhaps none of them
it seems only a hollow word
yet crowned…
slaves smelt metals
drinking coke they smelt metals,
i too smelt metals, woody
i’ll put padding
on the bleeding spots
of that soulless woman:
yankee, go home!
yankee, go home!
as i said, i am a traveler afield here
even i stand on tiptoeing
i cannot reach the flames of liberty
i cannot light goddamned
peace pipe
do you have a light, woody!
Varllık Literature and Culture Magazine
November 2011, Issue: 1250
Translated by Mesut Senol