By: Katie Simpson
in grief i cover my tongue in sugar
chocolate fondant cake
morning buns
a pastel de nata
egg custard flaking everywhere
but all i think of
is the salt growing in my body
as tears evaporate
—
salt was precious once
carried across the desert
on a thousand camels
weaving south
a pound that could
hold back death
was more valuable
than gold or concubines
—
decomposition smells like sugar
complex forms collapsing
into a simple syrup
—
the lesson of Lot’s wife
don’t turn back
don’t yearn for the past
some moments must fall apart
if they don’t
you’ll only preserve
hollow things
like a pillar of salt
on an empty plain
—
in grief
i yearn to crumble
into someone else’s arms
but i keep standing
preserved despite
my best intentions
—
what the Dead Sea reveals
about salt
it will call upon
every open wound
even the shaving nicks
you didn’t know of
even in water
it only hides
crystallizing rocks
as water recedes
no matter how hard
you push
it returns everything
to the surface
—
at the funeral
they sugarcoat his life
of bruises and barbs
i don’t mind
sugar dissolves
my words will remain
Katie Simpson is a writer and photographer based in San Francisco. Her work has been featured in Quiet Lightning, HitRecord's Body Book, and Eastern Iowa Review. When not writing, she loves traveling and people watching. You can find her online at: https://twitter.com/honest_creative.
"The day my grandfather died, I had a sweet pastry for breakfast, trying to soothe my grief. But all I could taste was my own grief. This poem began in that contrast. My writing is usually trying to answer a question so deep I don't have the words to ask the question directly. Through writing this poem, I found the words both for the questions of grief and the answers that would heal me. For those reading this, I hope this poem helps you find your questions, and begin to find your own answers to grief."
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