salt
When they placed the salt
upon your tongue
did it remind you of
the seawater that you hoped
would hold the hollow ribs?
You were made into the small space,
bodies scrape wooden sky
with no place to relieve yourself, so
it is hard to tell
the living from the dead.
And when you read the dream
of a robin lying at your feet
with the sunset on its chest—
The water stops the pass,
they sang, but not you—
No, you spread winged arms.
