Edge. A Poem by Debashish Haar
It’s 2:30 am, pacing on the terrace: I see me ricochet against the edge of an open window on the fourth floor. I feel a strange numbness: a speck of ash scatters, the end left to fall: tumble and swing in mid air. There’s no spark as the stub hits the ground. I begin each day at 7:00 am some