Variegated

In variegated swirls of innocence
She flashed across a hundred different brains;
Her words, so many fine-tuned instruments
To bring to life the latest fashion pains

Of many different patterns she knew all;
But all she knew she was but loth to share –
To stand and laugh at loathsome mercy’s fall
And point, in hopes that others, too, would stare

By colors torn directly from the press
Of new wine in the skins of wrinkled old,
She taxed the new pariah’s wickedness
And left fine statues broken, in the cold —

With all the venom she can call to hand
She’ll ban simplicity from every land

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