Poetry

In praise of body
like a bow,
shooting arrows of clemency.
But I have come to deny myself,
the nemesis.
 
There was no penitence.
Unacceptable, in the light of
broad-day murder
of democracy.
 
Freedom to arc was a personal
style, writing poetry
against the art
of manipulation.
 
I am ready to become
human, after inferno, started
by you, to burn
the story.