We Incinerate Lights With Fragile Mirrors Poem by Norman F. Santos

Do you know what basks behind your ears?
With your supple hair of lightning tucked lightly
Do you hear the sirens’ screech and fluster you with fear?
That you reduced yourself in the speculum of a melody.
Have you been in the river of you veiled ears?
Where the conversations live and die a riddle
Resonated in reflections, ebbing not to err nor stir
The somnolent glow grazing the little shafts to bristle
At the floor of the river, the bosom of the mirror
Rouses an opalescent light; a wafer of a prism
A lamp discordant from the puissant lightning roar.
Sheathed in those ears: a hero to somnambulism.

Do you know what clings on your parting lips?
That dies with the deception of your dissenting teeth
Do you verbalize with tales of wars, tragedies, or assailed ships?
That your tongue flounced and fumbled towards an empty pit
Have you sang a ballad and extemporized metallically?
Painted with maroon hues and festooned with ivies;
A crowning barb of virulent thorns, lackadaisically
Resembling the tiara of the sun’s panging quandaries
And its tongue profoundly gyrating the luminous light
Of ramifications; the etudes of truths, lies, and cries
With every departing words and whimsy notes in flight.
Kissing your fatal lips: the fire of the sentries in your eyes.

Do you know what perches on your gnarled shoulders?
Arched amongst carousals and amidst the mundane clockwork
Does it hamper you with the stifling squall of somber?
That ravenously bashes the solace of a slumbering berserk.
Have you wreaked footprints in spite of the futile endeavor?
In a desert imploded with coarse gusts of a chagrin trance,
And revamped by golden skies, the eyelid of a desiccated storm
Of shattered epitomizing sands and sardonic haze that prance
With the violent beam of the winding prolix moon
Hovering the effervescence of its pristine visage
Fragile frame that smears vaguely behind the bloom.
Espousing those frail shoulders: a savior’s entourage.

Do you know what flutters with your hands enfeebled?
Bludgeoning the oceans between lissome fingers
Does it vex you like a voyage amidst tides too bold?
That you made a ghost in the vile sea to linger
Have you ever held the ocean in your palms?
That echoes the blazing firmament in ripples;
A thousand waves for the sun’s thousand arms
Coiled silently like life in the beast’s navel.
Shorn aqueous silhouette of lights, hope, and innuendo
Of an ornate chandelier clasped by the perilous sea
With the sweetest waves and a florid lighthouse in the milieu.
Holding your nimble hands: a widow of symmetry.

Do you know what glitzy light remains untold?
To fulminate bilateral somniloquy with its reflection
Do you kiss the cheeks; the vestige of a faithful word?
That subtly whispers a light in every conversation
Have you seen the rainbow that caroms inside?
Inside a mirror bijou stalling within the depths of you
And your world of wonders and its perverting glide
Like paper planes with wings of serendipity in pursuit.
We are candles, cradling incorporeal lights.
We are mirrors, counter-feigning aphorisms.
We spew of colors from mauve to maize all too bright.
Mantling our soul, the arsonist mane of a prism.