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but a child jumps on the kitchen counter
from the corner of the eye
and the salt almost gets spilled.
I am dragging these things from deep oblivion,
from the edge of dissolution. It is like
salting a still twitching fish.
Maybe what matters at the bottom is this gentle dark
in which it is perfectly natural to let all the times of life
sleep, alternations of cold and warm currents.
_____