The Universal Harlot - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Istanbul's Skyline

At the crossroads of the world
the sacred whore is lost in dreams

of cinnamon and purple nights.

Who are you?

the rising moon commands.

I am the harlot of the world.

For so many perfumed nights

I slept with emperors and kings

but all the time I dreamt of Eden.

My sainted master took me to his

bed ever since I was a child.

His velvet touch cooled my mind
and in the beginning his

pious chants set my flesh alight.

Now I despise them all!
The emperors, the kings, the sultans
their salivating mouths and their
nauseating tongues on my slender thighs.

But I'm the universal whore.
I'm bought, I'm sold, I have no choice.

All my ships have perished.

Fires are dancing on the waters

and even the Mermaid has drowned.

The emperor has fled to the caves

for shelter. The ancient gate is shattered

and the golden eagle pierced through

the heart lies breathless at the barricades.

The Velvet Lord has turned to marble

and a green wind is soaring from the east.

He defiles me and I cry in ecstasy and pain.

The day of the broken moon is dawning

yet each day we wait for the miracle.

Our beloved emperor will soon wake.

The prophets have seen it in the stars.