(Color diminishes with distance, so keep that in mind).

Your robin’s egg prom dress is very separate from the
Night you left the barbarians and found a new home
A cataract Moon in your eye let you look into space.
Do not extenuate, it is a simple Inverse Square Law,

The farther away you are, the less your field of influence.
Now I am at a great distance, for instance, and local words
Have little gravity to prevent them from careering off in odd directions,
As if they lack cohesive force, or are off looking for something

Your lover left you for another and drove away in a blue car
Driving in the rain to the Blue Hills of Massachusetts.
Look, the sky is both very near and a hundred miles away
Blue nitrogen bends blue, its short frequency is the last to abandon you.

Just from across the field you can’t know if that is a Bluebird,
It’s just a dim gray shape hopping among branches of an Elm.
That’s where you might look for a lost dress, in a tree on the edge of extinction
You have no idea what color it is; you suspect there is only one color.

Moonlight bleaches colors, as if you were looking from a great distance
The gravity of the Moon makes all the oceans oblate and shades of gray
It only has the strength to pull tides from one side of the Earth
Because the other side’s oceans are too remote, too blue.

You are not alone, people with vast elliptical orbits transpose
Your dotted lines, reflect light, prisms turn aside their red and yellow
You don’t see things that are colorless, but you look for things that are empty
And even from far away, you will have that expanse fill up with blue.