Neşko 1
by Jennifer Reimer
You learn the rhythm by the third day. Eray raises and lowers the anchor. Mehmet
drives the boat and—. “You write” —keşke—. Remember : the sound of water. Taxis
boat to boat. In the evening, he— air haunted by the taste of salt—Skin.
The sun sets portside. Grilled shrimp and rakı. How could we help having more than
enough —keşke—: Andriake harbor in the morning. You watch sea
turtles. Fish. Things spoken as—unspoken give us a way. You broke your
vow of sobriety to dance barefoot. Green, how much he wanted —your
dreams—green the trails of memory. Do you like American music? Your best
friend texts: “You basically are embodying every music video ever.” Why then—
On the 4th day, Roman ruins slide starboard—you wonder if you could—
come for days—The passengers mistake you for crew. Neşko named for his dead
grandfather. His father— dead when he was three years old. No, he dosen’t—tell
you all about it : the old house, working the boat at 13, the uncle the drunk stepfather
who beats his mother who is angry today because he didn’t come home
last night you slept on the boat. He wakes you early. The Turkish Word
of the Day is nefis. Part of speech : adjective : Nefisti — That was delicious—
You tell yourself that someday—
soon you’ll learn past tense—
Jennifer Reimer‘s first book of prose poetry, The Rainy Season Diaries, was published by Quale Press in 2013. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in: The Denver Quarterly, Tinfish, Puerto del Sol, Weave, Zoland, 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 work in Ankara, Turkey, and enjoys escaping to the Mediterranean coast where the raki, like the poetry, is abundant. She believes sea salt should be its own food group.