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Abraham Considers The snail-shaped hollow in Isaac’s neck, slight curve he strokes, singing sleep, sleep. The neck pale as a new lamb; the lambs in the hands of the shochet, each with its clean cut, dropping silently, as into sleep. The heads of flowers, nodding unbearably. Winestems that snap in the hand; the necks of spoons, thin as sandal-straps; the straps that bind Isaac’s uninjurable neck. The knife drawn back, sure and sturdy. God, god, Abraham throws back his head and laughs. 19 ...

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