(Author’s note: “Keske,” translated from Turkish, means, “If only/ I wish.”)

she—returns

              sole      swallow

                          another

point of origin :                                                                       f/1.4

                                                                                         half  

pine peaks       broken rock     face                  light gathered area

south               Mediterranean

                                                      at midday :       wide blue lens

refracts            full                   —she—           relative brightness

quickens          —keşke—        vast                  field of view

            open                cave  :  mouth

—she—           releases                        breath              filtered

frame               azure                evergreen                     eye—

                                                                                            f/2
—light             pulls                            taut

to mount—                                          Olympos

at 2 o’clock                   still

sun                              —she—           burns

body’s             cruel                remnants—

remember :      April in July                Eliot—

              fragments                                rock

ruin                  sleeping

              jungle cat        sound              sea

stretched :                    now

            silent :              now                 blue—

                                                               f/2.8
—light             reflections        float

            4 o’clock         calm

here : no call    no voice

            collects

            small    stones

waves wind    —salt spray—

pages

                          turn

to present         in absent

              form

— she—                      ripples

the surface—

                                                  f/4
—light gathers            length to
dragonspine     diameter
               mountain

sun slips          6 o’clock
sea       softens             south—

Cyprus : Kyrenia, Nicosia—
              close—
                         point of other
              origin

her salt licked              skin
shuttered          around this
tightening circle—

                                        f/5.6
vined terrace—frame
green—as decreasing
luminescence
                    8 o’clock
shades she— eats patlican—
shrinks            time
             slows
—heart—        opens
so        let        so
much               moon
             rising

                          f/8
             red
half      drunk
—she—
             sky
             lit
             star—

Jennifer Andrea Reimer’s first book of prose poetry, The Rainy Season Diaries, was publishes by Quale Press in 2013. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in: Our Stories, The Denver Quarterly, The Berkeley Poetry Review, The Chaffey Review, 580 Split, Tinfish, Puerto del Sol, Weave, Zoland, 14 Hills, Gyroscope, and Glass. She has an MFA in Writing from the University of San Francisco and a PhD in Ethnic Studies from UC Berkeley. She is the co-founder and co-editor of Achiote Press. She currently lives and works in Ankara, Turkey, where she is an assistant professor of American Culture and Literature.