our love is terroristic

the colonial question has always been: what to do with all these cypresses?
what I forgot to say, dear colleagues, our university is indefensible
it is stated that they love us and there is no water and no electricity
fuck them, FUCK them, via black studies, the unethical imposition of qualifications,
empathy for not-quite-humans, because recognition is subjection in  this   order
dear colleagues, since when have you transformed into ‘human animals’?
on 6 October the sky was largely blue in Al Zahra and its surroundings
we’re writing a prologue for the persistent present of empire which is
an accumulation of European self-care, safe spaces, and dialogue with each other
on the screen: a man who carries around the limbs of i t in a plastic little bag
against the backdrop of the ruins of Imru’ al-Qais from the sixth century
in any case, dear colleague, I will no longer come to your lecture on decoloniality
there are bulldozers in these clouds, in this serenity, in these products
the politics of periodization: what do you take as the starting point of this
touristic excursion in Jaffa with ten highlights and an enthusiastic guide?
you are so silent and complicit that you probably think this poem is about you


The original Dutch version of this poem appeared in De Internet Gids, a Dutch literary journal.

Çağlar Köseoğlu

Çağlar Köseoğlu lives and works in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. He teaches in the humanities department at Erasmus University College and at MEiA at the Piet Zwart Institute. His poems have appeared in various Dutch and Flemish literary journals, such as nY, Samplekanon, De Internet Gids, and Kunsttijdschrift Vlaanderen. His poetry collection Nasleep [Aftermath] was published by het balanseer in 2020. Nasleep takes the Gezi Park protests of 2013 as a point of departure and explores the remnants of that historical moment, oscillating between polyphonic, critical noise, and post-revolutionary affects.