November Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

</>It was a cold November,
Colder than any the glaciers way up north and south,
Those two, wintry poles of frozen men –
Yes it was an icy month,
But then, she came and melted the ice
Like a candle at the middle of the roads of Gold
And Alexandrite where I shiver blue and smolder bluer
She calls me names of endearment,
And she smiles at me, the way no one else could execute it,
Her smile was equal on both canthi like eyes,
I taught her how to cook meals,
And she taught me life, and the way a man chills
In her presence – such a cold woman.
She chained her heart to mine,
And as servile as I am, I let her, with rustic rusting chains,
They fit snugly on my chest, and I would never
Trade the feeling for any holiday where weary bodies
Sign retirement.

She’s gone.
And this November is colder than ever.
The glaciers have occupied my whole world,
My room, under the pillows, under the sheaths
The world is now a frozen brook, where all the men move
And break free of their entrapment inside ice spears,
I am cemented in between the ice and her posture
Now only my family calls me names to endear
Me to their hearts
My mother teaches me how to cook, and I assumed
Her position – but I wasn’t just cold – I was half-drunk,
And half-blind.
I smile at the mirror, and my smile was not equal with weight
On both avenues of my lips, my face was wry
I am chained to my bed – without her chains,
I am servile to her memories, to her remains,
And I am as impassive as the wall that I commune with
In the blankest hours of the night – I lose track of time,
The days and how the nights coil into mornings,
Even the rays of light startle me-
I would trade this feeling for any kind of holiday, that would
Send my weary soul into a retreat