Take Another Noontime Shine Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I shall declare as if, “The night is lost,

And the child froze by the park bench.”

As her heart, a tempestuous place

In this moribund slumber of silhouettes

Cast by the moon light, this immense night

Slowly transforms into another world

Where I am left with locks of hair – chestnut brown,

Two front teeth unsheathed, iridescently quivering,

Tiptoeing like a ballerina across my loutish skin,

And thinking about love not as a blessing, but a disdainful sin

-

Protruding roads in the humid rainy day and musk

This flask is empty, chagrined into eternal cobwebbed fortnights

And look at the mirror, eclipsing hair of resiliency,

Dare try to stifle with daggers, and daggers will eviscerate

Upon worlds of stitched memories, conjoined stars that form

Constellations that tell a fate that is null, void and succinct

As if, the acquittal of souls upon the gates of heaven were only

Woven with loose threads of your hair upon lithe arms –

You seep like the wine upon the fissures of my lips

Drought took its toll, like the bell that chimes over imprudent words

-

I remove one more fragment of my skin,

And dab it upon my wound to seal the frothy plinth
That would usher dreams into cringing flames upon a pyre

Or upon a bed – and that is the pyre where epitaphs

And ashen-skin that would harbinger what these eyes of

Glinting faint hope cannot – there is an obsidian in these eyes

That has forgotten about limerence, for the coldness

The heartless, the soulless, whatever spiteful name I could feign

To see you call yourself in front of the mirror,

Will never, ever - but long so to believe that forever

Is but a day in between January to December that would spin

Another coil of verve around a cypress, or sequoia or the very

Walls of your bed that look at you while you slumber

Acquiescently, I promise you this; meet me at the tryst

Where the Sun and the Moon meet – do you know where it is?

I do not know, and so I will send you letters attached with adamantine passion

And amaranthine amore – hold on tight but give some breathing room

For these hands cannot write a love,

That one cedes with heart, and obliterates upon mind.

-

Hold another noontime shine, and keep it

Like the Sun beneath your hair in every sprightly photograph

Captured upon the tapestry where the bungalows and rooftops

Dance in a promenade of masquerades with bare naked faces;

Their eyes were crafted to be veracious, but not so to endear

With such lamentation upon chandeliers and waltzing music

That tickles the ears and oppresses the soul - fantasize me

In porcelain, or sequins that line up like words in a book -

The perchance is that, I might die in the noon time shine that you hold

Never to return again, as I am taken away to a silent land -

Or maybe, just maybe, I will live for you in the days of the noon

And still try to vie against somnolence in the fortnights that paint

The city white - pallid, coarse with the troubles of every aurora

I will live for you, and die if I must - so as to prove that there is heaven

In an eternal winter in your heart - for heaven is as white as snow.

And that snow, will bring about another noontime shine, for our taking -

Or maybe for my taking, mine alone, and alone I shall be.