I keep hanging by these tangents
Of your dashes and curves
Trying to figure out how every
Version of your twists and turns
Unravels into a canvas
Of visual perfection.
It's perplexing, really
How you mend your schisms
Into waltzing polygons
Every time I break you down
Into fractures of your selves
I end up lingering in your angles
Of oblique abstraction
Turning vertices into suns
And edges into horizons.
Then I reconstruct you
From your purest form
This brush provoking
Both palette and palate
For every stroke and spatter.
Your beauty didn't mind
What madness to this method
The monochrome requires
To finally become free
And shackled at the same time.