(after Nazim Hikmet)
I didn’t know I loved windows so much
but I do – enough to wrestle
someone to the ground over them,
so light can, once again, flood my eyes.
I didn’t know I loved bare feet so much,
or walking away on them to wherever point,
my heart slung over my shoulder
like a sheep-skin bag.
I didn’t know I loved small islands of quiet
in the middle of the day,
but I do – they feel like old friends.
I didn’t know I loved the idea
of night descending like a tired bird
or birds flying in and out of rooms and poems
but I do.
I didn’t know I loved so many things.
Only now that I have read Hikmet,
am I setting them free,
one by one.