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To The Culpable String

Sinking in this quagmire
like a strip of flesh
grinding inside
a quicksand of tarmac;
brambly and turbulent
your eyes - staring like
luminescent stars
descried my wallowing
in the black ribbon
of taut despondence
from the serrated fragments
lying on the floor

You unmade a tragedy
and recounted a tale
in stale slivers
cutting the fingers
with no urgency
not even a clue
hovering the soul

You improvised
a lustrous sheen
for my lackluster
and in the midst
of wanton catastrophe -
these vulpine hunters
and vulturine hungers
a madhouse
of sticks and bones
I do not know how
to repay your light
instilled inside
this eternal night

Thank you
for your generosity
and your luminosity
and for flaying
with the whims
of a hyena mocking
a golden lion
still and silent
as gold itself

poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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