I Wake up in Istanbul

Rowan Tate

freshly stirred sun sprayed on / pink, yellow, orange houses, their spackle/ of red roofs like stepping stones to heaven. on the sea / and the streets, panoramic / the portal from east to west, opening / the ancient and the new, emerging / in minarets and freckling seagulls and calls / to prayer: a city at the kiss of two continents. / my skin was made here, i / taste a foreign air, the noise / of sitars and spices grazing / my face. cats perched in the windows, carpets hanging / like pages to turn. the flag / holds moon and stars in one hand, / the sky calls me by the same name.

Rowan Tate

is a

Guest Contributor for Panorama.


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