The false teeth that kissed me / remained here / after you went away. / I sometimes look at them / and see you cleaning them again with string, / with a twig from the field / and then blow on them, patiently, with love. / One day, maybe, I will give them to my jaws. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 20)

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Wherever will the promised light be? Is there a paradise among the clouds maybe, rest in the wind, refreshment on the seabed? Where does the dark, the insomnia, the madness, the crying, the illness, the death finish? Where does God hide himself?

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