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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 1 clocks.
to shoes filled with tears
and garments torn
in 2 and grief.
but here at the edge
of the abyss
the tea is the 3 color
of comfort,
the biscuits are crisp
and sweet
as you feed them to me
with loving hands.
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