naked

I roll sideways off the swing, closing the book as its last words are disclosed. Time for an unwinding, a creation--shucking the shriveling corn ear to bear delicious fruit.
I grab gloves, chemicals, a paintbrush. Then she's handed to me. She lies, beautiful and broken and waiting.
~

Stripped bare--down to the last shadow of what once was. But--with love, care, and a little shellac--the lingering shadows melt away to reveal her true light. She seizes her victory stick and sings at the top of her lungs. She is simple--strong. She is brave--fearless. She is pure, pure delight. Some shrink at her name, but all my hours have no shame. She is thankful for that--for the new home within my heart--and does her best to sing ever clearer, ever stronger, in gratitude. Her hollow heart welcomes the hands that caress her neck, back, ribs; those hands that brought her from shamble and ruin, healed all her fissures and impurities; my hands that cured her.