Caper's Poets

Grace — Zeynep Sasmazel


When the angels came down they
scowled in silence. Scattered our skin
from our bodies and sat in all
that carnage. I took a ship to Santorini
to meet you and fumbled near
that gallows; you knew.

Their smiles aren’t kind enough and
when they sing we feel the plane
of existence shift, clutch our paws
to empty space. When they sing
we want. Unable to persist our fingers
spring from sockets, shoulders break,
knees shatter. They speak behind
fat hands, those sneering cherub faces.
And we can’t do a thing
we couldn’t do a thing but look up.


Filed under: Issue 3, Zeynep Sasmazel,

A — Zeynep Sasmazel



scarlet scarlet scarlet
there are scorpions under yr skin
gold dirt fingernails

there are churches & cardinals
still left to burn
black in name & in blood

o holy lady
there is an entire kingdom
to tear down
an entire family
to raise

and there amongst all the remnants & ash
you sit like a queen


“Husband, I have created you.
Look not to the incessant throngs,
the riotous crowds, the flame, the cross.
Emerge. I beseech you, husband
look to your passion instead,
and step away from the gallows.
I have loved you for years.
Who is your favorite wife? Who do you cast off now?”


I am the crowned witch.
I am incestuous.

All abuses come in the form
of family blessings
corsets dipped into poison
thighs barely gilt
seduction spells

I have worked too hard for this.

The earthquakes we privatize
are worth all the country
are worth all the world

I have sacrificed my existence for title
I am ready to break except at the surface


COUNTRY: Where is your heir?
VIII: In bloom! In bloom!
COUNTRY: Where is your heir?
VIII: Cast yourselves off.

Filed under: Issue 3, Zeynep Sasmazel,

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