Uproariously, too; as the small skein
of a faggot that's a fasces burns up.
Or the eight spoked wheel turns
and heats, and in it's turning melts.
Or the serpent that is us upon a caduceus
slips down the shaft and swiftly slithers.
Everything that is the flailing symbology
or that hesitantly turns on monogamy
or does undo this; the locks and chains
upon every verdegraaft, invisibly. Ad
astra per panton.
