Knossos

They called it a palace, later,
shuffling through trenches of dirt
then shrapnel. But

we pray together in halls of pillars,
walk, hands held, between light wells,
rays closer than the echoes

of dancing. In the plaza, we sell saffron
to sleek Eqyptians with liquid eyes

and stories of wars
that run from them in our presence. The priestess

gathers purple to draw the spiral
around us. This is a strange world we found ourselves in
but at least we are found.

I place the amber torque
on your neck, breathless at the work.
You say sometimes one can see things inside,
resting. We hear laughter from the hill:

the King and Queen have woken early to watch
the first acrobats avoid the horns.