Broken Flowers (D9 #NaPoWriMo)

Lotus1

Nine times nine she rose, Lotus like,
Born broken from the barren dust strewn floor
Maid, Maiden and crone, one hand trembling on cane
Made one by the light of the moon
In the room with the broken window
And the core of a rotten apple.
The mongrel lay exhausted,
And dreamed of lupine
Exploits of its ancestors.

© Greg Richards
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