Salt

by Columbine

Stranger, stranger, you mistake me
My hair is red and my eyes are wide
And I'm tired, so tired, but from inside grinding
Not body-hungry or foolish-weak
I can take care of myself
I do not like your knife or your breathing
I do not like your desperate certainty
But I can not dislike your honesty
Much though I dislike mine
Your hand so cool and graceful upon
My eyelids, fingerprints talk to my cheeks
"Don't look."
Then warm and tight to my lips and salt to my tongue
Salt, sure as the slow healing sea
Must I need to be healed?
And the tide chants, yes, you must, you must, my child
Again, drink deep, take in, be whole
Mother, mother, you mistake me
I am of air and fire, not salt and wanting
I am strong, not lost over the loop
Branched like a cancer off the net of life
And the tide chants, drink, you must, you must, my child
Even a cancer is still my child
Drink, my flesh, my child, in salt
And iron, steadfast iron
Like the gritty rocky earth of New Hampshire
Worm-lively and stubborn with roots
Harsh and crystalline in salt
Heart-hoarfrost, order defying chaos
Stagnation stronger than living loam
Salt to the wound, must I need healing
And why do I yearn to decay?

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