Tibet Woman

this early,

before any light,

I hold on to the

dark like a cup

of cooling tea.

It's the time I

can coil closest

to the baby deep

in the tent. We

listen to the

wind blow down

from Mt. Kailas,

the animals in

cradles of snow.

Licorice sky and

me under the yak

wool eating an

apple slowly, the

only color in a

blaze of white

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