Crazy Bird

by Melis Ozturk

owl eyes
without chestnut feathers
stooped on your body
describing you is difficult

banana bright hair
scent clear as moons
hands hold a book of poems
occasionally lifting
sips of honey-stirred tea
or beer,
I don’t know which

you sit every Thursday morning
same spot
numerous times sleeping
with the book on your lap
drink spilling as
you lie on grass

stars crinkled above
those owl eyes of yours open
and your lips move
like a silent film
you are awake
I wonder
if you dream poems

I tried describing you to someone
but it’s too difficult it’s almost
as if I were talking about a crazy bird