I Am Not Mine

If you lost your travails
And vexed by your pace
When pendulums delude you
And the moon found her place
In the southern harlequin nest,
Crawl back into my quagmire
And find your footsteps
Heavily, desperately,
Engraved.

I have reserved a lofty place
A lubricious empiric charade;
A malignant kingdom with
Long aisles, hallooing verve,
And surfeit rooms in sated
Enigma of your preference
But defaced of grandeurs
For that is vandalized
By your very place.

Austerely numb by utopia
In the blackest of words
And farcical taste of the sea
Guttering these dark lids,
And iron singeing in my lips
And serrated grinding teeth,
I will wait here, futilely,
Until I am owned
Unwarranted.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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