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Gelato Luna


Jackal like clouds attacked the vanilla
gelato scoop of a moon, first circling,
and then scampering across, smothering
its light, and then, with sharpened hooves,
knocking off white gelato chips, which fell
into the dark emptiness to begin the long
descent to the earthly globe below, where
transformed into white gelato flakes, they
gently tantalized outstretched tongues of
frolicking children and slow strolling lovers.




Eric Miller is a retired dentist who has laid down his drill for a quill. His work appears or is forthcoming in Foundling Review,
The Storyteller, Calliope Nerve, and Stories that Lift.

  

Copyright 2009