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My Istanbul

I feel mottled
a gray cloud slides

over the domes
turned from the white

sea and its secret
Greek dream

here is a white bird
and a grave-digger's spade

here is a smooth white face
here an inswept corner

here it is temporarily perfect
moon thirst and moon slake

rise out of that great lively sea
to illuminate the dim passageways

here is a star inside a bag
this is my heart beating faster