Eldritch brambles climb the sky
leaving no root-work behind to trace
their trail. Only a gale hovers 
weaving in and around a thorn belly
so the elderly doe sees but a friend,
a rain cloud to bring her drink again
to hydrate shoulders still housing
organs fighting to live. One careful step,
next, another. She feels five years younger —
not much, but she’ll take it. Until

A JACK-IN-THE-BOX FROWN OF SPIKES

crashes down on ears, neck, back, knee,
bruising and bleeding flesh already flabby
and drowning in sand. Fawns all grown,
buck long-dead, she bleats for a dependent
Bambi to come cleave to her teat again
but large and strong enough 
to then carry her upon his back.

He never comes. She curls and shrinks,
wrapped by the bramble nemesis, until 
she becomes a little sweetgum ball 
for younger deer to trample.

Gold winner of this contest: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2831131-National-Poetry-Month-April-25th-noguest