pillar of salt
i stood like a stop sign
& watched the leaves turn static.
stopped eating any slices
& took to prepparing for fires.
the punishing god is my favorite
because he makes sense & acts
just like my father.
in summer, i was a little girl
barefoot in my television-watching.
the news is a kind of city.
bumper to bumper dreaming. a stop light
dangles around my neck. we used to
talk about the future
like a vegetable-can on the shelf.
i pried the morning open with
my teeth. scrolled past radiation dances
& a mouthful of rubber. my car
went belly-up in the poison.
my brothers merged into one.
i told myself to look at beautiful things
like nail polish jars & sticky notes.
the street flooded to the window.
my partner became a blue balloon.
everyone stopped believing
in water. i should have dug a well.
i should have sewn a quilt
from single-socks. i should have
focused on my hands--inspected
each crease & fold & found
the future teeming there but i looked
& looked & looked. i saw
computer screen dazzle & phone mirage.
invented new kinds of burning.
i saw neighbors shed clothes & honk
at the sun. i saw the trees
shave their legs & the year
tuck its chin to chest & rolled
far away from grasp. tasted
the salt of my own skin.
god commanded me "hold still