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Click hereSmiling faces
what about clouded urns
filled to brimming.
Those ornate gilt-edged
flasks,
some tawdry, some beautiful,
Most with memories
enclosed
Dust and embers,
fragments and fissures,
Bony, calcified .
Will the eons take them away
change to dust and make
those stratified live
like beacons
Pull the way
On, slip into the abyss
Watch as soiled colors of My life
unfold.
meandering byways ,
broken sighs
Boughs, bent and twisted,
her form aligned then put back
together
A hastily re-arranged akimbo
of twigs and sticks
whose will is taken ,
whose will is spoken,
whose will is changed.
He cloaks in that deepening
Night.
And she puts the urn
Back in the
Closet.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.
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