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Tamar Yoseloff

Gold leaf, cadmium, ochre, saffron-

indelible once set on vellum.

The monks ground azurite and lapis

for perfect blue, took care

to cleanse their hands of poison

that made words sacred.

We place our fingers against

each other’s lips, a vow of silence,

sense the touch mark even after.

I am brimming with words

but none can hold that moment

when our faces, edged in gold

glinted in the water’s mirror,

the invisible sun within us-

so I let them fly, lead white

against a white sky.

From Chroma magazine issue 2, 2005.