First Cells
—
Çağla Arıbal
hi, yes, it’s us as in thick, putrid us, as in poor mythology, blood clot, yes you and me, here, never native to this world.
isn’t it all about being a man of his time and about not swimming against the stream but keeping your mouth open underwater? a man of his time a man who doesn’t weigh like his antithesis ha.
no more metaphors we set the scarecrows on fire we are bathing in a pharmacy of natural light I gently slip into your head I tiptoe, not disturbing the weather around you stay in elegance look, please.
I’m in your wet, glowing brain pulsating with the innate knowledge of of what of
how not to go crazy about the stars, the moon the upcoming mornings, every day, every single day how to sleep every night, why to sleep what to wake up, why to and who continues where we have left.
the cells inside you are splitting and splitting look, where are we can you not why not an earthquake on the moon it sounds like a song on a taxi driver’s radio doesn’t it
I roll up your childhood so we can dance here the floor is wet and glowing
here: we know why we sleep and what we wake up to
here: where walls of weeping no longer shed a tear
here: where the children jump over the walls and never come back.
there is a light coming through the scarecrows I told you, didn’t I did, no, didn’t I, or
no more metaphors only us and earthquakes on the moon.
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Çağla Arıbal is a Berlin-based writer, poet, and creative writing instructor originally from Turkey, with degrees in English and Comparative Literature. In 2023, she was awarded the Best Fiction Prize by the Oxford Review of Books. Her writing has appeared in the European Review of Books, First Page, and other publications, and her poems have been translated into German, Czech, and French. Arıbal has performed at literary festivals including Runokuu in Helsinki, Haus für Poesie in Berlin, and The Word in Denver. She is currently working on her first novel and a short story collection.
Photo by Frans Rinne
Website | @caglaaribal
isn’t it all about being a man of his time and about not swimming against the stream but keeping your mouth open underwater? a man of his time a man who doesn’t weigh like his antithesis ha.
no more metaphors we set the scarecrows on fire we are bathing in a pharmacy of natural light I gently slip into your head I tiptoe, not disturbing the weather around you stay in elegance look, please.
I’m in your wet, glowing brain pulsating with the innate knowledge of of what of
how not to go crazy about the stars, the moon the upcoming mornings, every day, every single day how to sleep every night, why to sleep what to wake up, why to and who continues where we have left.
the cells inside you are splitting and splitting look, where are we can you not why not an earthquake on the moon it sounds like a song on a taxi driver’s radio doesn’t it
I roll up your childhood so we can dance here the floor is wet and glowing
here: we know why we sleep and what we wake up to
here: where walls of weeping no longer shed a tear
here: where the children jump over the walls and never come back.
there is a light coming through the scarecrows I told you, didn’t I did, no, didn’t I, or
no more metaphors only us and earthquakes on the moon.
Çağla Arıbal is a Berlin-based writer, poet, and creative writing instructor originally from Turkey, with degrees in English and Comparative Literature. In 2023, she was awarded the Best Fiction Prize by the Oxford Review of Books. Her writing has appeared in the European Review of Books, First Page, and other publications, and her poems have been translated into German, Czech, and French. Arıbal has performed at literary festivals including Runokuu in Helsinki, Haus für Poesie in Berlin, and The Word in Denver. She is currently working on her first novel and a short story collection.
Photo by Frans Rinne
Website | @caglaaribal