Evocative Wings
My words lay asleep
in the luminous quartz
with your phosphorescent
and pliant burl of chains
as I reckon your picaresque tales
and how it overlapped
my taut and tedious
windows and persiennes
and its ruminating
choreography
Because in these nights
when the wanton wind
fails to fan
the stars' white flame
I reckon how
our immense skies
wore different shades
And the countless miles
surrounding us
even those etched inside
in our lost fathoms
never failed
to break us asunder
in gentle goodnights
If I can only
plaster the winding roads
so I can at least
look back more carefully
but the lights blinded
my flustered eyes
and the maps
had already changed
along with all
the farce
shifting
How I loved you
in a spur of time
stronger than the waters
dividing the hills
or the blood
boiling beneath
Like birds
from the same nest
our evocative wings
and different plumes
were separated by
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poem by Norman Santos
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