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brendt evenden
View from the Obelisk
The horizon:
a cardiac flat-line
signalling
the separation
between air and ocean;
the heavens and
the netherworld
forever severed and
split by a hair’s breadth.
Below it
metal sentinels
silently wait, floating
on the two-tone blue banner
of sky and sea; but
one’s slipped away
through the bosphorus mouth.
Past buoys and gulls
it rides aqua surf
waves, and triumphant, is met
with congratulating nudges
and pats on the back
by little metal tugs.
Pigeons fly by, going
where pigeons will
and still
red and black lined stars
dot the flag –
minus one.
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