Featured Poem

Tailor Breath

I’m a luckless tailor, my memories solitary
chill as a river, misgivings ripple down
my shirt with each snip of the scissors
through my fabric, linen of the journey

I chose not my master, my trials draw near
if my hand skews my tongue does not, leave that blank
the colour of this blouse makes me giddy
restoring silk requires pardoning the tear

which of these shirts does the wind fill out
October is ashes, April is hair
the coming memory is gashed open by the tongue
were I an apprentice I’d repair the quiet

it’s as though I’d loaned out passion to penury
shirts haunt one skin after another: ‘I am ready to be worn’
I’m a tailor at the end of my breath, loneliness my lot
nakedness haunts life after life: ‘I am ready to be beaten down'

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About the translation:
Haydar Ergülen
Derick Mattern
Original language:
2014 Number 2 - The Constellation

About the author

Original poet

Haydar Ergülen

Haydar Ergülen was born in Eskişehir in 1956. The winner of multiple awards, his recent books include Üzgün Kediler Gazeli (20...

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Derick Mattern

Derick Mattern is an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, where he is the prose editor for Devil’s...

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