Tuesday, January 5, 2016

swallow the wave of new year salt, 
the drying and healing. the flakes 
pressed into the bottom of my boots, read
books that explain human beings, write articles 
that explain human beings.
explain everyone 
but myself, i have been lost in the wilderness 
for a very long time.

this last year has been a series of church fires, 
the wince of carving
new topography into an old map, wince of standing in an embered field, shielding 
eyes from the destruction 
i left. i used to think 
about a wooden cutting board all
frayed and yellow in the middle, something meant for 
hard-use being used, turning that varnish into martyr, the precious things
i twisted beyond repair. new year,
new salt,
it is time to start raking ash from the front year like 
quiet citizens, a warring country
burned into feudality. 
new year, new salt- 
air so cold that it hums. 
easing my body into the river,
i'm ready to be clean.

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