Izmir at Three O’Clock

Just ahead in the almost empty street

two beggars, one without legs—

he’s carried on the other one’s back.

They stood—as on a midnight road an animal

stands blinded staring into the headlights—

for one moment before passing on

and scuttled across the street like boys

in a playground while the midday heat’s

myriad of clocks ticked in space.

Blue flowed past on the waters, flickering.

Black crept and shrank, stared from stone.

White blew up to a storm in the eyes.

When three o’clock was tramped under hooves

and darkness pounded in the wall of light

the city lay crawling at the sea’s door

gleaming in the vulture’s telescopic sight.