Athenais Sophie

Her blue is the blue of dusk through rain flecked glass,

sheeting unwashed space, flowing.

Her blue is the blue of the river east, spied as evening's wick

extinguished, trembles dying.

Her blue is the blue of the squall ripped vault, gauze dressed

and charg'ed wet, steel mesa muffling.

Her blue is the blue of velvet, tattered and dusty, hung

over shuttered casements rotting;

So Eos wakes, tho' not, not yet, almost; only peeping

and disturbing atoms, floating.

Her blue is no blue, yet all blue; more than Pluto's Cerulean depths;

from her firmament indigo: endless novas, two, burst glittering gold, glinting.

D. Larson, for Athenais, February 2007