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The Thin Wire
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
Bart Edelman 67 THE THIN WIRE Through a tiny speaker The voice stammers, Turning each table, Rearranging our lives. For a sudden moment, Words are nothing more Than syllables lost in space, Eager to find earth; Yet once the terrible cargo Lands upon that empty field— We are strangers in the window, Children at the door. Slow recognition leads us Into winter’s stiff wind, Blowing the hats off our heads. Everywhere we look There is little to see, But the naked truth of trees Mourning the loss of leaves, Too brown to hang on boughs, Just waiting to break. Oh, if it could only be As it always was— To know we still belong: In the old house, On the same road, By the green sea. Now it vaguely seems An improbable dream of chance, This distant voice trailing Over the thin wire. ...