Blatant Hope Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The lions will prowl,
And lunge at sorry bodies of shriveled tongues
And marred wings for we are moths.
The wolves will howl,
And fracture the night, eviscerate the skin
For we are satin sheathes of hapless riddance.
The vultures will dart
Across the garishly rancorous sky
And feed upon our sorrier, sordid dead bodies.

From where the stifling paroxysm of cold ushers,
There is an account to be told
Underneath the naked night where the moon
Is even more naked than two bodies making love
To the cadence of the prying daffodils and
Willow trees, petrified foliage –
There is hope, even in the hours that burn
Underneath the restive waters.