She was crushing earthen lamps
under her red-alta feet as Armstrong
was putting his on the moon.
From that night,
heaven stopped being heaven,
and moon the chaand.
The priest chanted mimic mantras,
they walked around a fire seven times
as Armstrong said, “One small step for man...”
Later, discovering nicknames and blood-days
on a lunar calendar, she asked,
“Did mosquitoes bite him, too, that night?”
He smiled, “No, only the woman on the moon”.
And space was conquered again.
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