Like fighter planes
you carry in your measured lines
some subtle code that transcends mere geometry.
Whoever made you knew that power is beauty
and beauty power.
What witless scribe created us,
the great unblessed, to cast ourselves
as gifts about your feet?  Graciously
you wear our hearts like jewels for a while
but later, with a yawn, release them and speed on
like fighter planes
that strut so prettily across the sky
committing exquisite murder.