Shattered Vases Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

9: 05 in the evening
I went outside to
Clear the clutter
As the smoke encircled my head.

I gazed at the naked
Skyline and noticed
A star traveling in an
Upset pace.

I am finished with my small death,
Hear comes the massive deluge.
To go back inside my house.

At the terrace,
My dog was coiled in the dark
He was dead in his silence
And dog-grin.

I opened the screen doors
And I stumbled upon
Shattered vases.

I remember so well
Where the shattered vases
Came from.

For instance:
Late in my years,
In front of the antiquated cabinet
With the TV mumbling,
I slowly picked up
The mauve dress
With no woman in it.

Again,
In another portion
Over the bed:
I picked up the
Brazen epistles
Written by hands -
Only hands from
A soulless writer

I surveyed the entirety
Of this burning home
Filled with slivers of vases.
In front of the auburn couch,
I see myself
Smashing against the wall
Languidly reaching
For the flaccid glass
Of whiskey -
But to no avail.

Since then
Even my mother
Nor my father -
All of them.
They tried to mend
The fragments
They tried to sweep
This home and make
It plush again

But everywhere they went
With me
Inside the car,
Inside malls,
Churchyards,
Backyard parties,
Family reunions,
Acquaintances,
Buildings,
Offices

They carried
A shattered vase
With them.