The rise, the fall
of twin blasts. Were
you going to repeal the
writ of divine code?

With spring in your arms,
will you throw the dice
to win the virgin―
ring of Mars?

Peace makers were at large
for the crown. Who―
else would hold black―
the apocalypse, along with
the black moon?

Locked windows. Someone
was waiting for you in golden
patch of the door, when the dawn was
ready to give you a kiss.

Purpurea, the foxglove
covers your eyes like a hijab.