Broken Nails [poem]

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and so I visit basements
once again
wherein were crushed
my childlike wanton joys
where mirrors make reflections
[rude (arcane)]
and strangely stunted weapons
fate deploys

I climbed that mournful mountain
(twilight dawned)
the specked unsweetness
the lightful rays
the temporary truce we held
was mourned
across the landscape darkness
strewed bouquets

But yet I cannot
the futile foundling’s
ragged swaddled swathe
was cut across the path
which reassures
while all my dreams
to your lathe

illuminated avenues I saw
but now my broken nails
on cliffsides claw

© 2011, Alan Morrison

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