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Ma'ariv over Granada

The setting sun of Andaluz wipes tears off a face like it does light from olive tree tops

and coats tiled old-city techos in bluish-black

My words swim in air thick with ecstacy and anguish

In the sheer gravity of pecho-prayer pined-for, prayer centuries silenced, prayer echoed eternal:

the sun is pulled to its momentary cushion of stars.

and her eyes close in scarf-soft peace

as her lips lace incantation in the wind

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