DOGS OF UNYE

Black Sea

Feral dogs are playing on the beach,

they come here to be out of reach

of park attendants chasing them

and policemen in the central square

where head-scarved women chat

at the cake festival, contestants

in the precision craft of sponge.

 

Banks are not dispensing cash,

you get your Lira at jewellery stores

as the owners squirrel currency

and later I climb a cobbled street

where the rich and famous used to live,

then through the spooky graveyard.

 

I'm travelling because ambitions

have diminished with time

yet still a desire to see the world

while me and the world exist.

I ponder sea: the thoughts it triggers

of madness and destruction to the north

but here, peace prevails for now.

 

The High Window, 2024, Editor David Cooke