Check out Randall's explanation of the deft metrical technique in this poem.
"Ozymandias" by Belle Randall
Oh love, I've held you in my arms so long
you've gone from living lover to cadaver,
from skeleton to dust; have struck the prong
that holds one note forever, have tried to savor
the old palaver, the cold leftovers of love;
have learned to cover up my head and pray,
as if on Tuesday and every Tuesday shrove,
the decades reeling off; have grasped the way
an infant grasps the finger of its father,
like a Chinese finger puzzle; have knelt
before the Sphinx until my knees wore fossil
prints, but in the end the things I felt
fled like skeins of smoke above the wand
and murmur of devotions in the wind.
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