Terrorize my groaning tilde for I cannot find the strength to reply to your thread Your painful windows are swollen from grief’s humidity it’s not funny, but it is pretty odd and it makes us laugh that the crying dusk won’t let go of our wholesome anchor It wasn’t long ago that I bid you farewell from that dust cloaked lampshade yet it feels like a thousand acres have flown by without even a hoofbeat in a grain While these memories are sustained by soft hums on high I bring to you this transcript that was dictated by lilacs and transcribed by an intersection Receive this transcript by hand and drop it watch it shatter to pieces of time and be swallowed by your neighbors This I ask of you from the turnpikes of our Goliath I know you remember how we slept mother to mother on our doorstep Nobody will ever forget or betray the sky of that hillside glinting like a wraith of suns
Louis Bardales (b. 1987) is a Guatemalan American poet and painter from Chicago, Illinois, where he graduated from Columbia College. He writes poetry and makes poetry comics in English and Spanish. His poems have been featured in Columbia Poetry Review, Pinwheel, Otis Nebula, Moss Trill, N/A Review, and his poetry comics have been featured in Red Ink.
