900 Days in Iberia

A Poem by Xberg

Between dusky jeweled ornaments perched on the Atlantic,

On seven climbs of sun blasted spires,

Our footsteps met at Erebus corners,

Stood young in the high neighborhood of night.

Under sea shell street lamps,

And shrieks of new friendship,

Both names, we sympathized, could wait,

Then quickly each became our ways.

In shared bad habits we spun our plates,

But when you spoke of days to come and softly sured your place in them,

My blood would chill to frozen magma sat on cobbled steps in wonder.

Like the city old as bronzed Phoenician memory,

Engulfed in fires then drowned in beckoning,

There came a reckoning of natures terrors.

Did tears run like molten gold?

Staining Carioca countenance.

Your bold handsome laughter hushed to brushed waves,

On Estoril beach before daybreak.

Did caveat calls on twisting tracks,

Pass under Vermilion April bridges?

Across the other shore in clouds,

His arms outstretched in waiting patience.

My words outreached of our befriending,

Are letters sent with no address.

Questions come back echo endless.

I'll wonder if you meant that ending.

© 2018 Xberg

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Featured Review

barleygirl

This is top-notch lyrical poetic writing. I love the way you pay attention to sounds as much as meanings of words. I love the way you cover such a wide variety of details. I love the way your pacing makes this feel like an epic poem, punctuated by searching questions that resonate with longing or urging. It's such a marvel the way you crafted this to convey lots of feeling, as much as an image-filled story (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie