SALT
At one point I thought it
covered everything, that this was how
the world preserved itself,
crystal lining in a sauna or on the body
edging up your thighs and tires
and oh! it is so dark outside again
the neoned signs of funeral homes
keeping us as warm as we can ever
get tonight, on nights like these,
where the world is filled with broken bric-
a-brac, and when you sort and line
it all up on the basement floor,
it becomes a zipper through
which the world
is slowly pulled
apart, a part
of us on
either
side |