The hammer’s edge
on
the edge of the wind
like
the edge of a storm
like a flood
like a wave
that
unseen rolling border
a
gate from nothing
the
door behind reality
about
to slap invisibly
it
doesn’t go by
doesn't
go around
doesn't
go through
you’re
in its way
you’ll
never see it coming
hammers
have no sharp edges
that
portico unfenced
over
up on and away
the
caster as mystery
so
well timed
to
a tune unique
and
you never heard it
until
it’s gone
to
be a leaf
to
be a bird
to
sail
to
ride
to
be never slapped
invisibly
A.
MENDOZA, 2017
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