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At the Edge
Linda Pastan
we are having tea at the edge of the abyss . . .
RAYMOND FARINA
It's a long way down
to darkness and fire
and the wings of night birds
making unruly sounds.
To dismantled1 clocks.
To shoes filled with tears
and garments torn
But here at the edge
of the abyss
of comfort,
the biscuits are crisp
and sweet
as you feed them to me
with loving hands.
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