The Memory of Metalby Margarita Engle |
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A poem is engraved on the blade of the knife a man uses for peeling fruit out in the fields, at slow noon. The rhythmic whisk that stirs twirling eggs is an instrument of percussion in the hand of a woman who daydreams love's tale lost and found. A massive bell emerges from the foundry giving birth to its own secret music molten tunnels deep earth. | |
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