Perhaps, Transatlanticism Cuts Like Diamonds Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Sharp, cunning diamond -
Such mesmeric glint and gaudy thorns
Perchance, transatlanticism cuts like diamonds
In the evermore of surfeit agonies and angst
There is a cerulean flower planted at
The middle of my high seas that the noon,
The fortnight, the equinox, all the rambling seasons
Failed to recognize.
A diamond in distress
Cleaves the mirror of my soul, these eyes
Exhausted from the winks of fate like a flower
Scrounging for flamboyancy.
A few pummels of transatlanticism:
The diamond shatters: an adamantite no more.
Reduced to slivers
Cutting through phases, lapses of time -
A sifting of these fatal fragments,
Aggravating the expanse.