salt

i throw salt over my shoulder
wherever i go. 
handful. coarse granules
in my palm. pockets full
of salt. this was the salt
you gave me. salt born 
from a body. we jogged in place. 
shook like stray branches.
i feel all the salt flecks
glimmering across my skin
like constellations. don't you want
to reverse all your luck?
wake up with quarters over you eyes?
don't you want to feel safe
in the heavy leadening forest? 
leaves bolder fall to the brush. 
a metal is taking over
all pulsing. here, look at 
my hand as it trembles.
i am just trying to hold 
a steady bone. 
it is amazing what salt can do 
to a plant's skin.
i watch a tree sweat itself 
to death. what about humans then?
i am seeking my first purification. 
i need a clean that traels
all the way underneath 
my tongue. soon, salt 
will fall from every single 
single opening 
in every single sky 
& we will open out hands
like jars. preservation 
is different than remembering.
we carved our faces
in a bowl of stone.
i miss every single moment we had
before the camera was invented.
sitting for my portrait,
the salt pours out
& buries me & only me