Nearly New
by Silky Threat
Suddenly,
Bent, spent, warped and
frenzied
The dark blooms
A cloaked rose
Bitten,
brightened.
Looms,
A shaken bought doll
Crumpled in a small heap
In a tight deepness
Rises
Risen
Painted spun gold sun
Hot molten tears, sand scorched dry
Sheds its shroud
An old toy washed
Pink as cold berries,
Tainted taste of soil
Blemish of past horses, passed rivers
Marred, renewed
Lavender among the weeds