Kind looks reveal
catastrophes, and then
a burning man on the Duomo's roof
is filmed with open delight.
The acrobat swoops, injecting cobalt
into the monochrome sky
hands pressed to a delicate heart
her buttocks harnessed in steel.
She cries, Don't let the self-anointed
custodians of god and gold
swindle you into soft flagellations...
So, we creep behind the facade
vassals to counterfeit moves
starstruck, calcified, helpless on how
to dismantle the rules.
