Dislocation Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The lions filled the pages, occupied and almost
Punctuated these verses with such arrogance.
The lions roared furiously, almost directing their hatred
Toward the gods that were reticent, ensconced behind
The thick shrouds of impassive clouds.
I am secured behind the corpulent blankets
Underneath the innocuous night -
My eyes were stained with such filth that these verses
Were as squalid as the wet asphalts.

The puddles were asleep because of the night’s
Candid lullaby. The scented candles flicker in the flight
Of a marred wind. The fluorescence escalated from the ground
To the roof beams as if I am carried to the anguished rooftops
Of screaming insurgencies.
I watched the stars and paid close attention to the distances
Between them – The stars left numerous residues. The wind
Punctures the flesh of carnal desires and purges the soul, inside
And out. A lion lunged as I am perched atop the rooftops,
Here, this line is punctuated.

The curtains were drawing in, like swift waves racing
Towards the shore, expunging the steps engraved on the sand.
But the waves tried to hard – like a chagrined woman rubbing
The rust out of daggers, out of words, and out of time.
Time rusted so much that every tick of the clock sounded
Like bones fracturing.

The lions stopped disrupting the verses,
And the moon froze within the silver wind.
I took you to the ocean,
I pointed where the sea gulls slumber,
And I emphasized the rustling of the mad waves -
You told me,
It’s not pretty.