Submission Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Marred, as I stood frozen beside

A rusting machinery, and there

A menagerie of shadows passed by, with baffling saunters

In between heavy breaths and trepidation

I gazed at the moon, and its silver veneer

How immense it was, and so is this night –

And every night will be, in a sleepy hollow

For you are not here, and you will never arrive

To lay a vestige to grasp with my calloused hands

From a fray, an ocean of memories – I drown,

-

I could write as if to say that this night will be better

Than ruby, topaz, emeralds and tethered dreams

But there is no sense, a sagacity that has been quelled

A long time ago, a second in that long time –

Oh the turning of the arms of the clock seems so long,

And I am here, at the edge of my bed, with folded hands

And lips assuming prayers – waiting for you, to open

The wooden door, and turn the deadpanned knob

And entwine, and meld with the moon, and eschew the Sun

But all this will not materialize, I know this

And so I write, this night will not be better,

-

I took a look at the mirror, with pallid borders

And said with a sigh, athwart from the hanged portraits

Of anonymity, “Is there hope in this? ”

As long as I breathe, I will believe adroitly,

Stalwart, facing the mirror with embellishing vim

But mine eyes are dead and subtly glinting a spark

That is aglow upon the stars, but faint on my soul

I cursed the walls, I vandalized fate for this gambit

Is not worth the risk, I wager everything and have lost,

I will never regain my verve, for it has been stolen

Far away into a land where locks and keys do not match

A bastion she was, a bastion she will be

Enraptured she was, embittered I will be

Spare my beleaguered body, frail and neglected

But still the only hope that remains is that,

I will never be enamored again, same with lilac

Underneath the vast tangerine skies

I wept, bereft by a dead corner underneath a tree

That sprawls and cradles me like a mother – I am a chagrined callow being

My muse will live, emblazoned on my heart –

When one door closes, one wise man once told me –

That another opens; As apologetic as I am,

I said unyieldingly, with hands clasped tight as if

Holding your hands once more and never

To slacken, “I refuse to take the door, ”

And so he left, giving up hope on me,

Just like all the others. If this desolation

Shall infinitely take me, what impeccable timing!

I am willing, I am subservient – acquiescence is my friend,

I do not care how long – life be hasty, take me away.