SALT

I
white girl on the morton box
never looks back.
her salt spills
in the rainstorm.

II
lot's wife
awoke.
trace her salty footprints
back to Sodom.


LOT'S DAUGHTER DREAMS OF HER MOTHER (excerpt)

I
in my dream of roads
each turn glitters,
the road remembers your footsteps.
each night is a crossroad
and I must choose
a babylon burning and be cursed,
or reason.
mother, this choosing is hard—

these roads all slip away from me,
smooth and white.
in the moon light the dust shines
my feet are white with dust
and light.
what would you wish for me?
would you sacrifice me Sodom? or safety?
which sacrifice?

mother your body is a road stretching back.
your memory intersects the spine
where I stand with my white feet
upon your heart,

you are my road
you are my cross and crossing.
you are my reaching back
and my intention,
you are my genesis my bedlam
you are my beginnings.
you are my death
in full stride.

BLACK ALBATROSS

And a good south wind sprung up behind:
the Albatross did follow.
—S.T. Coleridge, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

once there was a ship,
innocent men lost
in their own storm.

for shame, they shot the albatross,
for shame, watched her fall.

does anyone remember the albatross
pled innocent?

strange how innocence looks
so much like death
and like death requires apology.

does anyone remember
the albatross brought a ship
out of storm?

strange how desperate men can love
you to death.
their love songs are apology.

is a woman ever loved
for her self
and not for penance?
too many halos suggest
a bull's-eye.

once there was a feathered spirit
her wing span was continents.
she skimmed the waters in the wake of ships.
landed twice to mate.
her heart made a perfect bull's-eye.

the albatross hangs from the neck
of her lover. his mouth is full
of fragrant love songs.
her children follow
in the wake of ships.