The Natural Earth Will Be Salted by e.a. toles


bodies at this age have rotted ripe
         with heavy trauma

sinking fast as Wormwood
         on impact-

children will grow up nursed
         on salt.

naturally, sweetness can and will
         be absurdly abused.

none of last week’s
         words gave

any sense of becoming, that bang
of light meant to blind us wise.

someone meant to learn the Art
         of Distillation,

how to wring meaning from divorce,
         from misinformed motions-

how to buttress graves of heartstones,
         to whittle the blood diamond

down to rose dust wine.

perhaps the creek or the stream
         or the river will remind us

of where it is that we have been,
         where it is we will forget
                  by dawn.

love is the easiest failure to misremember,
         that is what i am told,

my arthritic mind grasping.

so why is it that i am still
         watching you cradle my breath?


©2018 e.a. toles 


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e.a. toles is an author living in Los Angeles. He has published poems with Figroot Press and is currently writing news articles for the Non-Plus Ultra.


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