Nicholas Pappas


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.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, July 6, 2005



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