Salt

salty eyes, salty hair, salt on a skin so fair.
So much romanticism in the ocean.
You cry salty drips that crumble upon ocean lips
Have you ever had something build up so
high
that when you finally gripped that cold porcelain sink
with fingers dipped in blue ink
you saw the blue drip down like a faucet crying dry
As if you were Noah who already knew that the flood would come
surging by
hands crashing like bickering paper cranes
blue lips, blue veins
blueprints of skin rolled up and tightened
that left blue imprints
on thighs and cheeks slightly flushed
you said to yourself
“It’s all for love.”

Kati Yewell