Drusilla

Iconic as you tower
over your plot.
Some unlicensed charlatan
severed your limbs,
and torched you through your core.
Then with great admiration
of his own artistry
rather, butchery,
Nailed his calling card
into your deepest roots.
Statuesque
and prostrate
in contemporary form.
In another color and shade,
one might find you
A centerpiece
In a downtown loft,
soul-less and uncanny.

Yet here you stand,
Defeated.
In a north county suburb,
broken by the machinations
of man’s mastery over nature.

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