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Amy Huffman
The Mistress of Carrots Captured Me
on my way to visit the moon. She recognized my glowing,
offered me an olive
branch (as she was a daughter
of the dawn). I took it, gratefully, offered her a cosmopolitan
in return. We drank them in remedial silence
until the universe hiccupped, allowed us a moment of stasis
where we were able to breathe
and perceive each other in shadowless sight.
Her smile was strangely midnight. My eyes were visions of light.
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