Home, after a long absence

…not many things as blue
 as the sky in Taos on a clear winter day… .
 When Kali the Destroyer gives final suck
 to the world that will die and yet be reborn
 The color of the poison with which she anoints
 her nipples
 Will be the color of that sky.
 The great god Thor has yet to find a paint
 so blue for his sky shield
 And when he casts it behind the midnight sun
 It looks a little pale and worn out
 Compared to the sky in Taos.
 It is said 
 that Antonio Gaudi never came to Taos,
 And so the pilgrims to La Sagrada Familia will not see there
 true blue, but
 only the approximately blue sky of heaven. 
 Every summer, beside a dusty old adobe in
 Arroyo Seco,
 A cornflower sprouts; and, if it gets precisely the correct amount
 of water, and of drought,
 It blossoms, a single floret of Taos sky blue.
 Long ages ago, before there was a Taos,
 or a world,
 The great old ones, Father and Mother,
 raised up their perfect child and
 named him Death.
 And they clothed him in black — of which
 darkest night was made in memory.
 And they planted the sun in tribute
 to his smile.
 And made the Earth so that all things
 precious therein could be his toys.
 And so that none would ever mistake him — 
 His eyes are mirrors
 that reflect only those things
 as blue as the sky in Taos on a clear winter day.

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