For The Love Of Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Not a word I say
As long as the salt is okay.

It really makes little sense
Depend on salt my goodness and patience.

The sooner it goes wrong
Sparks fly from my evil tongue.

As if a little less salt is good cause
To bare myself in fangs and claws.

In fuming anger and blind of sight
Forget the times when it was alright
Once in ten when salt goes less
Monster takes the human’s place.

I console myself it’s an ingrained fault
In man to flare up for less grain of salt.

The beast in us can no longer hide
When deficient of sodium chloride.

In these what I read makes me darkly brood

For the love of salt I couldn’t ever be good!