Vainmodesty

Vanity
is supposed to be either
arrogance, or fruitlessness.
I can't deny that hers is vain,
despite it's so productive of
effects and fruits of great
good use. Nor can I quite
deny the pride she takes
eviscerating it, and beating it
to bludgeoned mess. As modesty,
propriety, proportion and
perspective all descend
in gangs of beasts refined
to savage and destroy
what's best.

The hunt is ceremonial,
and it concludes with pomp
and grace. She's shining
from exertions and regarding
her reflected face - improved
in every foible, flaw
exposed, brought low,
effaced and mocked.

It's just as if she didn't know
how perfect is the plumped-for case
she was so fair to cop.