Tango de la Materia, No. 12

And in the morning curtsy

Do shave of nights once fore

And only then in passing

Save a word to save the soul

For at bashful touch of eyes

Rudely ruffled on come

Some ties in social lieu

So staving off the urgent

Symmetry as lest some cordial

Greetings do crush it too

And so come on ineffable etiquette

A vast distance ideo proximate

To sooth

As silence is so close

At seven stories high

Elevated planes of cognizance

Waltz a fade to tangoed touch

To hesitate emotion

Impeccable neutrality

Now drawn unto itself

Does see its cordial glass

It shatters in the melodrama

Breathes a posh relief

A lightly suited aura

And some sifting beaut to reap

So fleshing self to wisp in cordials

And how true to warmly sleep