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.