Night Wails Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The slur of the aeroplane
Bellows over the slumbering clouds -
The establishments are somnolent,
The bar patrons
Are either drunken
Over tedious tables
Or dead, motionless in a putrid alley

The sirens rave the thoroughfares
In a wayward liberty
The streetlamps are safe from intrusions
And even the rebellious ruckus
Of the riots have faded.

In these times
Troubled, havocked
By the desertion of grim constitutions,
You can hear the night wails
Exacerbate upon every fringe of
The petalled moon with sinewy thorns -
The flower of the night,
Whittling away in a dither.
The embittered rivulet of tears
And the cadence of its rummage
Can be heard in the stillness of the night.

Among other things:
The shadows that shapeshift into delusions,
The tranquility that metamorphs into hysteria -
A marred metamorphosis of amaranths.
The night wails
Are palpable.
Gloom emanates from the naked doors.
The night claims the maudlin souls
One
By
One
As the night wails signal
Salute, and seal
Their tragedies.