Indigo
She walked between things once
Valleys
And columns that held up the temple
Swathed and marked
With the memories of war
Long yardage
Stolen domesticity
Perfumed with almond scent
Dusky but near the hottest part of the flame
Clapping between her hands
Things known only at the time near sunset
When the desert cools;
The hour for which they have a special word.
2/11/11
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