How much salt could I pour
Between the syllables of this poem before
It is over-saturated?
Idolised crystals spilling onto paper
getting in that un-worn space
Between the pages and the spine
Causing dull pain
Under bitten fingernails
Chewed in indecision at each newly written line
Seasoning reheated thai takeaways
Rimming margarita glasses
Adding cynicism to our laughter
Falling behind our shoulders as we pray
For these poems
For the canaries in the coalmines
And for the miners
For all the things symmetrical and neat
Like sheets tucked in, hospital corners
For the barren fields abandoned
Between the syllables of this poem before
It is over-saturated?
Idolised crystals spilling onto paper
getting in that un-worn space
Between the pages and the spine
Causing dull pain
Under bitten fingernails
Chewed in indecision at each newly written line
Seasoning reheated thai takeaways
Rimming margarita glasses
Adding cynicism to our laughter
Falling behind our shoulders as we pray
For these poems
For the canaries in the coalmines
And for the miners
For all the things symmetrical and neat
Like sheets tucked in, hospital corners
For the barren fields abandoned
by Kelly Pope
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