Vicissitude I: Winter
A numbing sting eviscerates
The sky to a crystal hail
Her gloom falling from grace
Piling a stark garden of tulips
To mourn with the asleep river
And buried whispers in the ghastly gale
This mistral blanket of dagger kisses
Makes my bones shudder and cringe
In the dark nook of her vestige
Pawning a cigarette for the sun
Ensconced in a slathering absence
And ninety days of siphoned sun
I lambently mosey the emollient floor
Sinking without weight, stalled with no grounds
Seeking for an isthmus towards
A barricading sierra of seclusion
And averting the cajoles of death
In the verisimilitude of smokes
Dissipating from its svelte veneer
The sanguinary season continuous to fall
Pummeling my incendiary soul—
An attrition staggering for recoil—
But the torpor of the vision
Whittles an intrepid desire
To melt away with the thinning ice,
To be one with the lost interpolations
And amalgamate into the winter sky
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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