© Terry O'Neill, 1977. The Morning After The Oscar’s, Faye Dunaway


I run away on the morning after

not an ounce left in me for the project (you)

If it’s any consolation, they say

it’s not any better when you actually win



That I’d know, I used to win all the time

but these days I stick to another sort of gospel.

Clue: eight words, ten syllables, evergreen–

only the dead see the end of war.





Busra Erkara writes short fiction, personal essays, and poetry that trace the paths between personal histories and fluid geographies. Her work has appeared in Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Extra Extra Magazine, and The Galaxy Gazette.

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