Saudade Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The wind blusters –
From the night and its song of despair,
And the height, wuthering from the snarl
Of the livid moon light waxing;

I thought of you, right away
Strict with portent, gratuitously on my bed
Of folds like waves – if sleep is a sea,
Then let me drown, for in the ethereal withdrawal
There is not one, but two planets that
Slip out of physics and into senescence

The night – clement ire,
Austere wind shrills from the pockets
Of the shadows cloaked like mad men,
Slyly slithering is the grime of each
Fragmented silence in the shambled rubble
Of memories, of remains, of twined lips,
Melding fingers, gingerly upon lull women
And vociferous men – When all is lost,
The mind enters a state of eternal wandering
In a terrain painted blandly by hearts
And withering talent – mendaciloquence is a fine art,
And veracity – what an appalling caricature to thwart

I am imprudent in my own peculiar ways,
I sleep in the morning where the Sun is wide awake,
And threshed as if grapevines in the night –
I think about you in the night where a screeching horror,
And a closed stellar carnival pour upon my soul
Like one anticipates wine in a goblet full of masochism
And nostalgia, mulberry kisses and tangerine embraces
Saudade – a mordant state that is exuberant,
Exhuming memories like trees and souls disintegrating
From the Earth or a worldly body;
Saudade, oh, how I love you though you are far –
Far enough to have drank the liquid Sun like a river quivering,
And to have consumed the Moon like fusty éclair, simpering.