Consolidation Alley

A knotty cut purse, wonky mirabel
hoarse from intimations
yes and please and thank you sir
Dickensian purchase, an interlocutor
hobbled by the wispy thread of conscience
in a deep dark alley of consolidation.

Perplexed little bird, night waking
nest tilted by tremors
a splitting ridge of delineations
Denominating picklers, spinsters and Lears
the crackling line of islands
behind the spectacles of a draftsman.

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