Just before the peak and the gale
came the curve of the poise
slashed against a lined yet linen curtain.
Pounced a corridor of gunstrapped ballerinas
and oxygenated water pumped in: 50-50, silky yellow.
Resolution was defined,
and restraint merveilleux.
You told me clearly again the danger
and again we switched as agents
and again we swapped digital signals
but this time we just embraced.
We eased them into the gluttony of architecture.
Global histories become bullets in a three-level
chess of masks and gait.
Recognize my lithe. A nation is more than
A chamber of glass, the tentpole we shall climb
and unlock the silver-yet-sylvan tactics
of terror and surrender: Beneath it all–
the passwords, the rollers, the heeled shoes–
loyalty lies, and just might be deleted.