NYU Black Renaissance Noire Fall 2013 - Page 88

By NURDURAN DUMAN Weeds TRANSLATED FROM TURKISH BY GÖKÇENUR Ç. tides are not recognized on your face streets heading to your eyes are overrunned with weeds happiness is a golden thistle in the bed in the night’s wells dreams drop on you darkness cracks: pain gives birth to itself the child in your soul makes red hot sandcastles, Adam’s spine aches 86 No tides on your recognized face BRN-FALL-2013.indb 86 9/13/13 12:48 AM