She’d been living
in a man’s dialect
as her didactic mortal self
designed her own deliverance.
The femme fatal fashioned
the flutter of freedom
of all humans to tailor
her suited spirit in armour.
Unlike men with daggers,
she lacks menagerie.
These fine lines aren’t blurred
or jarred but rather bold in rhetoric.
She subtly sounds in song
to sway the moon in dance.
The elegance does not replicate
in the masculine but in feminist domain.
The power of worth determined by
her contours in silhouette and symmetry.
She echos refinement and finesse
steadily consummate in poised form
of progressive and primitive praise.
Her head held flattery in proportion to redress.
Her beauty balanced in rare and unique formulas,
flexible for liberty and justice for all.
She’s a statue of duty.
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