Poetry

Wake up, her magnetism is perpendicular
Concentrate, renunciation isn’t an option

She coveted her beauty to be paramount
It may not lie adjacent, or acute, closed nor open

Yay, Nay, or,
A night, a century, dissolves from her
Shedding a seventh layer
Shedding the eighth

The understanding of such linear artistry proves to be facile
An acquittal, forthcoming

New art, new liberty
The acquittals continue to waltz
Like multiple grooves shaped by the sand
Into apples and cherries