Discomfited Rhythms

DISCOMFITED RHYTHMS

feet wobbling on loose gravel, my aching knees feel
the pulse of arriving dusk.  My solaced soliloquy,
hushed by the rickety-roll of squeaky pushcart wheels
on rutted road… Darkness draping, swallowing the light
amid the squeaks…

where are the sunrays that raised
my clipped fingers to shade my squinting eyes
from high noon glare?
where is the succor of grandma’s
embroidered skirt on my unfurrowed brow
as we prayed Angelus?

i see a thousand-and-one scattered memories
on the low glow of incandescent sky:
that awkward first kiss and two pairs
of trembling arms locked in freckled embrace…
or my youthful eyes, those that caressed
the stillness of morning dew and you!  And
your face of girlish grace, unblemished
by echoing teardrops (my first Valentine)… Yet,
neither blurring vision nor surrounding darkness
could steal my memories.

life ebbing like the crimson-orange twilight –
a queer dance of unscented flames (in shifting shades),
in rhythms discomfited.

– between
shifting shade and discomfited rhythm
is unscented flame.

(c) 2007 Chito L. Aguilar

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