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It was under a marigold sky; she stood at the corner and waited
We fell into place.
“I feel like I’ve known you,” I said.
“But I don’t know how. I feel like I’ve loved you. I feel like I’ve forgotten you.”
She smiled at me with rhubarb lips.
She took my hand.
Hers was milky and thin.
It was old but young.
“These trees make the best shade,” she murmured, but it sounded like singing.
The corner graveyard with pioneer oaks.
We sat together and she showed me the clouds
She showed me the red breasted robins
She showed me how to weave the stems of flowers
We set them on the graves.
Her eyes were strong and wise with a tinge of pain.
“Are you alright?” I handed her a tulip braid. She set it in her wild hair.
“I had to leave a part of me behind. They were cruel to me.”
“Will you ever be together?”
She stood up and stretched like a cat, like she was made of elastic.
The wind blew blades of grass out of her coiled bronze hair as she went to the gate.
She was neither running nor walking.
She was graceful and deliberate.
She turned once and balanced her eyes on me. I tried to come after her but I couldn’t move.
Someday, I think, I’ll go back to that spot
And follow her to the gate.