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
