144 – Water


We boil down to so little:
salt, trace elements
calcified in the soil.
Dust to dust.

to animate.

We are more
than crystalline.

We live as skinned
sponges. Wrung out
we pale; bloated
we sop.

We require current
to remain

lest we wither
like a creek gone gluch.

Hips and elbows,
sharp teeth, sharp tongues
tent the sail
of the body.

Fear coats the mouth
in dust.

Water water everywhere
but nary a drop.

The sustaining wave
washed out: acres of sand,
white shells glittering,
our own glossy reflection

a pillar
of salt.

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