What Salt Taste Like
a pink tupperware container in the cupboard,
filled with salt kept in its acrid epitaph.
now its been years since the cabinets mouthed around
the windows.
the need for dry sinues grows.
blood purified rushes to the heart drawn by the
meter and decimal.
a moment and a memory unravels in the skin.
we learn to get by on a little less.
Copyright © Nathan Martin | Year Posted 2011
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