I Question The Trees, The Flowers, The Gods Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

If I look athwart my winter-glazed window
Upon the bleared moon behind the crystal veil
Of fleeting dreams and I never see you there
As the fringed luminescence accurately
Makes out the intricacy of your woven dress
And your symmetrical soul

Then permit it be that the Moon be jostled
Into a cutting mask of moroseness as I look
At the autumnal prairie outside my window
With your weathered reflection diminishing
Into the moon - I look at you in lieu of your truancy
As if you were there with your arms
Flailing in the madness, your feet trampling through
Squalor and disdain, your lips skived like roses
Raw with insurgency. Everyday, I look at you
Though you are not here - and when I sit weeping
Behind the windswept glass, I wonder mazily
If you think of me too as though you see me
Underneath the stark day and the slow, dislimning twilight.

And I wonder, if we exhaust ourselves
Like singeing candle lights underneath
The darkened asylum with frank flares
Struggling to keep the haven alive with
Resplendence, do you think of me too
As I think of you as well while I stumble
Upon the mishap of your thousand-tangled
Joys - I marvel at the dubious waxing of
My voice in the night as I try to scream
Your name as the city sleeps and seeps
Into abatement. And in times where
I am drunk not with liquor but with your
Love, I wonder if you also relinquish
In the same enjoyment of this candid
Drunkenness as I gyrate together with
The stars. I have a plenitude of
Inquiries that dare not shy away into lull
And so when I am quiet with incertitude,
Will you speak to me the guilelessness
That I betroth myself to in the time of
Superfluous mendaciloquence?

Yes, now, as I look outside, I question
The trees, the flowers, the gods:
When will you give her to me?