The "blue hour," as the helpful Notes at the end explain, is "the light the French call l'heure bleue, between darkness and day, between the night of a soul and its redemption, an hour associated with pure hovering." It is the hour she would wake with her baby son. From the title poem: "When my son was an infant we woke for his early feeding at l'heure bleue--cerulean, gentian, hyacinth, delft, jouvence. What were also the milk hours."
Other favorite lines and phrases, some blue:
"In the blue silo of dawn, in earth-smoke and birch copse / where the river of hands meets the Elbe."
"a confusion of birds and fishes"
"a memory through which one hasn't lived"
"a moment of bluesmoke"
"l'heure bleue, hour of doorsteps lit by milk"
"pinning their intentions to a saint's dress"
"meaning did not survive that loss of sequence"
"something broken and personal, a memory"
"the stories nested, each opening to the next"
the what is? gives the wrong answer
the what is? has ruined thought
as does the litany of "what" in the W section of the poem. And the ending, of the poem, since the beginning of the novel recounts a robbery:
your things have been taken
your things have been taken away