The City Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The city slumbers in
A rivulet of fire

The street lights were prying
On the streets soaked in
A gratuitous drizzle.

The populace were weary
As the rummaging vessels
Of raindrops scoured down
The windshields

The lights twirled into an
Assiduous haze of starburst.
The heavens were eviscerated,
It rained madly, searing the rooftops
Of screaming heights.

I am terrorized in my own skin
As if meandering vagabonds
And starved tigers are out
To chase me in this bizarre impasse.

I am reminded of everything
As I am drenched with the filth
Of abandonment and reminiscences.

Children’s names
A whole shroud of tulips
From the firmaments
Thin, blasé lips
Soft, supple hands
That never toil
Only crafted to caress
Sharp, simian jaw
Your crevices
Your tapestries
Your surfeit rivers
And your jovial dreams.

You tell me of a future planned,
And I tell you a life
Solely commandeered
By me – and I parallel it
To yours so that the tigers
Will go astray
And the nights will be filled
With efflorescence.

The city.
Saturated with a satiety
Of dreary sighs.

The city
Crashed upon my body
Like an unmanned wave,
A fierce current,
A fatally blustering monsoon.

The city,
And you
Resemble each other.

You fill me with such sordid blankness
That even the stars cannot
Understand my language.