Yet. By maintaining the expected refrain phrase without elaborate experiments, and then using a softened, occasional, random rhyming within key couplets— I gave myself permission to play with other traditional elements. Make the form my own, in other words.
The title… now that is another complication.
•The closing stanzas now read:
(compare with the earlier entry this week)
as photos of a summer god, found on clay shards
gesturing with open arms, flinging back his wings
in a divine wind— yet, the god’s face is obscured,
full features blurred, erased by time’s casual wings.
He leans forward, as if to speak my name
from the laptop’s blue screen: motion your wings,
He says: motion, forward.