At the Edge

 

                          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 dismantled clocks.
To shoes filled with tears

and garments torn
in boredom and grief.

But here at the edge
of the abyss

the tea is the amber color
of comfort,

the biscuits are crisp
and sweet

as you feed them to me
with loving hands.


--Linda Pastan