Terror Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

From things moving
Without any force,
To the planets
Girdled by inertia,
To the sleeping, inert gases
That cause celestial bodies
To explode -
Up to the last
Breath of a dying spouse
Or the hoarse cries
Of a starved infant,
And indeed,
The spirit of dead things.

I pick up the memories,
The soul of a skived tulip,
The impression of the feet
That once wore the shoes,
Or the body that once
Left the traces of assorted scents
In this mauve dress

To the voice of a stranger
Singing, in a reverie of chords
And the distances, the gaps
Between two people
Trying to reach for each other
And find the meaning lost
In the ignition of the stars.

Terrified.
I am terrified.