Flag sways in the breeze, heavy
like a blanket for Goliath,
dipped in blood.
Cargo ship inches
through the narrow strait
to god knows where.
Late-day sunlight burnishes the stones
of Sultan Ahmet’s mosque, moving
to golden spire.
Trees lean this way
shuffle along dry raingutters, waiting
for a meal.
after spending seven hours on the cafe terrace of the Arcadia Hotel (Istanbul)
June 10, 2008