She collects all the fear
she has gathered for 21 years,
puts it in a jar and seals it tight,
drops the jar into
the drink. Without it,
her days begin to count.
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Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
I have been reading your poetry and am in love. There is an intangible, esoteric vibe running through all of it. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I read this one. I know what it is now:
MYSTERY
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Thank you, Michael. Coming from a fellow poet your comment means a lot to me.
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