A woman full of neutrality Puts her backpack on her bed, Put the tube journey, The woman who spoke loudly to another woman, The chicken that was abandoned, The pigeon that was invited, She put there that same invitation She put there that after-rain-smell Tastes of hands wrapped around a mug of tea On the bed the woman put Things that happened in her mind. Places she wanted to go, ‘Every great story has a beginning, middle and end, not necessarily in that order’ She put that there. 3x + 3y = ? ? = ? The lips of a lover who refused to moisturise, The woman on Instagram who used to mesmerize, A crick in her left shoulder The woman put her shoulder on the bed. She was next to her backpack She put on the bed the boiling of that kettle So many days she had wanted to try that new tea! She placed there her longing and her determination Her tiredness and wakefulness she placed there. What a bed! It didn’t squeak or squirm under the load, It bent slightly, then curved its spine back to neutrality. after Edip Cansever’s ‘The Table’
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