NPoWriMo Day 30 - Cell
The edifice rises from chasmic horizons
and, doing so, engineers chess on four levels
which legions of lords could not overthrow;
paradigm shifts are maintained in the overflow
and so the president rises agape from her throne
and her glittering fingernails point to the moon
and the hovering moonspawn cry shrill in atonement
and clinking gold whispers,
“It's over too soon,"
Earth is a cosmic spittoon.