- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Damn Salt
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The tiny granules
Are hugely smaller
Than the holes
In the shaker
They dance when dropped
Onto the faces of dry plates
That were designed
To be occupied by food
Not unlike a kitten
On a water bed,
Finally full and bloated boasting
It’s weight above joists that strain
With each drop
one pint
over the line
and it’s basement, baby,
salt and shaker and all
- COMMENTS
LeBrozover 16 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,000 poems.
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