If You Are To Bring Death To The Lad Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

If you are to bring death
To the lad,
Sever his fingers
And ensconce them in the
Abysmal trenches
So that in this demise
The final touches were
Engraved on the hands
Of a love – jeopardized
And chagrined.

If you are to bring
The inevitable fate
To the lad,
Dismember his bones
And crush his spine
Into slivers
So that he could no longer
Skirmish through ethereal planes -
Only remain there,
Stationary underneath the garish Sun
With a few pithy breaths
Short of death.

If you are to drive a dagger
Straight to his bosom,
Do so gently
And tell him the mockery of the stars,
The perfidious supplication
Of the gods
And the fastidious fulmination
Of the moon.

If you are going to bring death
To this lad,
Rivet him with the amaranthine love
That he holds.
Impale it to his chest, let him give it
A taut grasp
So that the stars will grow envious,
So that death will fumble in his dialogue -
The analogues of his crystalline tears:
A clear vindication,
A tangerine wave,
A crimson fire of love
Will forever remain there
And with everything,
They will falter in a wuthering height,
Topple in a deathly precision
And kiss the ground
Until nothing is left,
But memories.