The thing about a verse is that it turns
Right here from one line to the next, reversing
Course to start afresh with new concerns
Or some old notion once again rehearsing.
While prose just rambles on until the margin arbitrarily compels the eye to shift back to the left side, like a car slammed into reverse for another try, reverting to the starting line again, oblivious to where it just has been.
But verse is far more conscious of its moves,
Aligned as metricality behooves,
Happy to glide in pre-established grooves
Attuned to what the ear, not eye, approves.