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edward palmquist

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the danger of sharp edges

2008

She’s dancing barefoot
over a sea of broken glass.
Nobody bothered to warn her
of the danger of sharp edges.
Her world is simpler,
one of satin and curves.
I try to call out to her
to warn her of such foolishness.
Yet my voice is drowned out
by the melody in her head.
Her dance has quickened
glass crunching underfoot.
I run out to stop her
but my pace is not enough.
I lose my footing
and fall face first into the glass.
She turns around and glances
at last acknowledging my plea.
Her smile is a mocking crescent
the sharpest edge of all.

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