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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Fredric Koeppel


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Stone

We gathered the stones that slew
the adulterous woman. They were
warm from the sun. Heaped in baskets,
they made loads for two men to carry.
My neighbors chose sizes and shapes
to patch the gaps in garden walls
or replace the fallen lintels over their
door-posts. I found a smaller, rounded
stone, cleft at one end, as if someone
had started to chisel a message, then
dropped his tools and never returned.
It stands on my threshold and props
open the door where I sit after a day's
labor, and the cooling breezes blow
down from the eastern mountains.