IN THE GARDEN AT THE WHITE TABLE
In the garden at the white table,
two dead men were sitting in the midday heat.
A branch stirred above them. One of them pointed out
Things that have never been.
The other spoke of a great love
with a special device to keep it functioning
even after death.
They were, if one may say so, a cool
and pleasant phenomenon
on that hot dry day, without sweat
and without a sound. And only
when they…
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