The Salt

The Salt

A terrible blessing –
to be laid open to the bone,
where the marrow trembles
and sings
with all the griefs,
known and unknown,
mine and yours.

I have wanted a field
where animals could graze,
where I could lay down
in the long grasses.

If this careful work
will be nothing,
if these words will not
fit snugly together like bricks
to form a path, at least

let me have a field,
let me have the bread, the salt.