City Of Salt - Poem by Nicholas Pappas
I was born in a shepherd's field,
and next to it, a lake.
Lot's wife came and took a swim
and saw more than any wife here should.
On hot days the aroma of guilt
washes over us. A mother pinches her nose
and swallows happiness with a glass of water.
She replenishes the earth, cultivates
her children until they are ripe, sprinkles
them with silver words and shields them under dark blue covers.
The smell of the rotten many, like me,
she's use to it, who isn't now?
We walk the streets alongside
clean cut men in ties and
girls over twenty (too old to cultivate) .
I guess we didn't like the taste,
so many hungry mouths craving more than testimony.
I think I'll go take a swim
and become a pile myself.
It's hard to stay afloat in the city of salt,
where everyone sinks and wrinkles before their time.
Comments about City Of Salt by Nicholas Pappas
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl