She danced on the rooftops with the moon to her back
Proud and shining on her elegant ballet
Whisps of fog entwined her shadowed figure
As she glided backwards with her final bourree, into the night
A secluded heart now followed her everglow light

Intellectual hygiene…
the Poet declines

That dull antiseptic,
that deadens your mind

Once washed and then scrubbed,
the truth a charade

Academic consensus
—the Muse in her grave

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

After lengthy days of torment and grief
Braving the cold, remained the last leaf
Feeling the slightest breeze
She slowly danced with grace and ease
Like a ballerina driven by the sound of her heartbeat
She made her final dance
And with her gorgeous golden autumn wings
She’s now ready for winter’s frigid embrace