Docent of Centuries.

forgot to mention the custodian
charged with flowing diadems
amounting stacks rise around

this is the work she's buried in

crystal hacked from gentle caverns
glittering desperately, the lazy sun
still pushes up to one from zero

a power created and captured by prisoners

the awful prism towers distortion
into hazy giants haunting museum walls
ponderous monacles tilt patron heads

fixed to the meaning, move as it may

and she, and she heel ball toe
angles through thresholds
vision pillows out down corridors

the visiting crowd still meek under eyes

but crowns without king heads stand mastiff tall against her day gaze

reminding her the pity the past has for weekdays