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Cornucopia Resting deep inside the labyrinth wrapped in grape leaves waiting to appear in Spring She fashions ways to please him, tries on apple discards mango, plump green pear, becomes a pomegranate's thick seed and schemes to place herself inside his mouth between his teeth and flow blood at his bite, resigned to let him swallow her or spit her out until the flow itself the throbbing of the horn of plenty shoots her deep into a row of freshly furrowed soil She must decide before the rain arrives, which way to grow |
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