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Erasure in Hand

I am coming as close

to the line as I can

without touching it

yet. I continue to stretch,

ostrich neck, giraffe.

I ponder the line.

It looks like The End.

Of course there is the other side,

then the questions.

Shall I retreat from the world

or live on this rough bed

of dreams?

The line is firm,

never wavering, ineffable.

There is no way to hedge.

But I nudge up to it

knowing I have to

witness the discipline

of its form, marvel

at the clear edge

I would have to cross.