A Knock Upon A Russet Door Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I beseech your name, your presence, your harrows
In the night where the silhouette of the ordeal
Burgeons outside as your door is sealed shut
In silence and a bleak solitude.

I bash your russet door in the night where you seep
Into one of my memories like the rain that cascades
Out of the heavens gorged with the foreboding;
I let the melancholic harlequin tear me apart
As my soul is sundered in ensconced places that
You do not know - the espionage of my soul
Towards your city is yet to be unravelled in each
Canto where I sprawl like a fire upon ivies and chains
That mesh me to your stream downhill. The azure
Jaded in these eyes is the only companion I have in
The night that bids the trees, the languid rocks
And the languor of the strafing wind, "Slumber morosely."

The door is sheltered and the carousal of the night
Quivers in effulgence; I manoeuvred to the rear
And there I saw you behind the window; I am the
Strident winter that emblazons a glacial fire; I wail
As I genuflect upon the thorny floor,
"Let me in, love - the corruption of the night
Swelters, its hands grip me, keeping me in ebony chains;
I long to touch the ivory of your skin,
I crave for your mouth like how the fire
Runs through an ocean of kerosene and desire,
I yearn for your being - without your being, my sundered
Fragments are nowhere to be seen;
Your kaleidoscopic, oceanic eyes - I long to lock
Inside one of those archipelagos and never come back
To this world that knows no solace.
So let me in, love."

And you arise, like the Sunlight that clambers
Through and through the hills now cut with
Feverish joy - you slowly walk towards the doorstep,
I scurry in anticipation! I held the frigid knob and felt
It slowly tilting to the direction of the clocks;
Your scent pierces through the door, now ajar -
You percolate through the slightly parted door and there
I implode like a celestial body coming to its life
To give breaths to the other scintillating stars at night.
You opened the door and there you stood,
Smiling, holding your quaint night dress as it carefully
Rustles into the night-wind and night-caress,
With your hand beaming, reaching out
For my hand signalling the tightest of clasps.