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I Dash Up Mommy...

I Dash Up...

Night’s over
I join the rush-
Dishes in the sink

It’s early morning. I can see the rising sun dimly behind the curtains. I can hear a long cock-a-doodle-doo come from the rare orchards left among the packing-box order of architecture. The voice is followed by a few bars of tomcats’ brawls and ended with a loud engine alarm.

It’s now broad gray daylight. Businessmen, businesswomen are leaving their homes with a guiless air for skyscapers where they work. There’s a nasty smog in the air. I’m a trifle uneasy. My mother will soon start complaining of her rheumatism; my father will soon call me to his aid to tend the artificial eye he carries after his glaucoma surgery.

My parents
the authors of my being-
Two dry leaves

I wonder if I’ll have time today to read my two new books purchased weeks ago.

A cry of despair
I let fall a plate-
Both my parents are on the floor

Ayten Suvak

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