Antebellum Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The antebellum I hold
Like a chain of silver flame
Has long existed
Before paths twined
And the heavens pronged
Upon rain.

You are trapped inside
A silver screen
And I could see
Your picturesque, dagger-like nose.
Your supple skin of
Sun-glazed éclair -
The Sun hurls spears of
Flares and they cut through
Your body, penetrating daintily
As you turn into
A mesmeric kaleidoscope.

Your auburn gown
Skirmished through the thoroughfare,
The trees sprawled to
The direction of the wind
That pressed lightly upon
Your scalp, tousling your resilient hair
Even.

The tales of the antebellum are
Told over nights of chagrin and
Melancholia -
Your eyes were as immense as
The infinite sky
And sometimes I wonder,
Underneath the shrouds
Of the unbounded sky
Do you think of me evenly
As I think of you, while I
Gaze at little photographs of
What you were
In the time of the warfare
That conspires inside of me?