Tom and Fatima
I saw your warm footprints, Fatima
They lingered in the sinking quartz
Stalled within the quaint wonder
That crossed this parceled paper
I saw them, standing with the colossus
Unruffled in the vapid slough of fire
A crawling inferno of treacherous
Skirmish waltz of phantom swords
And from this florid vantage
My solemn eyes rolled in naivety
To find my own footprints
Meandering supply and aimlessly
Caught in the inebriated throttle
Of the feral roars of hope
Traversing the dampen moss
Until abeyance congealed
When I saw our prints dissipate
As it crossed the enigma
Of the cesspool of ignorance
I scampered through the desert
That bit my tongue and burnt my feet
The mackerel sky threw my bitter dreams
Into a pond that gnawed at my sanity
Like an army of piranhas
That got to open their mouths
For the first time; blood-shed partied
Into the distance were crystals
That warned me: it would cut and kill
But I didn't care for the signs
Trampling upon plastic daisies
And dissolved colors into fake waters
I reached out for your echo
Hoping my mind, an impetus
To make you tangible enough to hold
So tell me, dear Tom;
Now that we're past the fire
And slowly sinking into the icicles
Of better musings and melodious muteness
How do you do?
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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