The Poetry of Salt

I don’t really consider myself a ‘poetry person’—although I’m not quite sure what I think a poetry person is, so what do I know? From time to time, a poem kind of smacks me in the face and grabs me by the feels. This is one of those poems.

Love Like Salt by Lisel Mueller

It lies in our hands in crystals
too intricate to decipher

It goes into the skillet
without being given a second thought

It spills on the floor so fine
we step all over it

We carry a pinch behind each eyeball

It breaks out on our foreheads

We store it inside our bodies
in secret wineskins

At supper, we pass it around the table
talking of holidays by the sea.