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Vicissitude IV: Autumn
Undraped from the silver jewelries
And donned with jaded gold
Gravity sat on his eiderdown
Girdling everything in his core
Usurping the land and filleting it
Until it is naked and splinted
From the cumbersome aftermaths
And I, too, unfurl a gilded soul
Married to a wraith of constant brawl
On and on, the creed falls
Shrouded from a multitude of brevity
I wither and fall in acquiescence
With the halcyon cacophony
Laboring honesty, eagerly and haplessly
Only to find it crisp and frangible
Crumbling to pieces only to fall
In autumn's omniscient spell
I watched the brown river flow
And the drifting current to take me
So the topple endures the invigoration
That I held for a sangfroid resistance
Gnawing teeth and kneading hands
In a tête-à-tête with malignance
I cajoled and begged for a consummate defeat
Under this wrecked vicissitude's feet
One last fall, one last shattered hope
One final string of a gilded rope
poem
by
Norman Santos
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