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In the beginning The spirit moving Upon the face of the waters And in the breaking waves Tasted salt And I see fields of it Drying on the shore. We let in shallow lakes of sea To evaporate, And the salt Accumulates along their edge Thanks to the sunlight: Crystal white, Enough for everyone, Harvested and sold In every shop and on the roads: Salt!— In proper measure Bringing out the taste, The flavor and spirit Of our food, hot or cold. Why should pepper get So much admiration When salt does all the work?
Your name is a—bird in my hand, a piece of ice on my tongue. The lips’ quick opening. Your name—five letters. A ball caught in flight, a silver bell in my mouth.
A stone thrown into a silent lake is—the sound of your name. The light click of hooves at night —your name. Your name at my temple —shrill click of a cocked gun.
Your name—impossible— kiss on my eyes, the chill of closed eyelids. Your name—a kiss of snow. Blue gulp of icy spring water. With your name—sleep deepens.