The Fall of Constantinople

THE FALL OF CONSTANTINOPLE


Smell the incense of a missed connection
hold that fruit to your lips the melon of absence
the empty signifier nailed to the sky
above all love the city wall
the curtain of our skin
flaps from the collarbone
a sorry flag with no crescent on it
just the everlasting sun over the yardarm
and we poised for the night’s first drink
like Turks besieging Byzantium
but where did she get all that music
and who carved her harp
from elm wood was it or acacia
the thorn that we suck honey from
John John you dip it in the desert
for all vascular plants grow from music
as in the orient Gamelan it’s in the space
between the sounds where men grew wings
and flew away from the City
as the ground suddenly abandons the dancers
the old priest waddles says no
no dancing in church no dance in heaven,
heaven is sitting still, honey
lucent thick and glowing in the comb.


Robert Kelly

Posted over on Charlotte Mandell

from MAY DAY: Poems 2003-2005