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How You Left Your Willowy Dress
The monsoon swooned
with a glacial riddance
and I abide the tempest
because in the sifting
I am more alive
than the vertical quietude
of this unrivaled squall
inside the moon's belly
Before she departs
and leave cobwebs
in the silence of the firmament
she whispered a symphonic
lamented augury
and left her willowy dress
sprawled on the shore
of my sleep's phantasms
A saline surrender
lulled a chagrin bell
into its squandering
because I had a dream
that lasted a lifetime's sleep
I woke under a sunny cloud
lost like a tourist
inside my own head
then I picked up the dress
that fits you generously
under the moonshine
donned in your phosphorescent
tea-rose veil of clouds
And I knew what she meant
when she said goodbye
before usurping every sand,
every frothing wave,
and every palming trees
on my scanty island
poem
by
Norman Santos
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