Left out in sunwashed fields
a withered hand reaping
Salt on the air, under the skin, the rain
felt pooling in lines of the palm
glyphs drawn and fading
seals of the magus erased at a stroke
and the threshers come to gather in the harvest
quickly, quickly as the sun dies
and the land darkens
The reaper’s hand takes up its light
and bathes amid this desiccation
—
—
Photo by Annabel Rose on Unsplash
The Light is On 
7 responses to “Salt”
I think we’re all in dark moods these days. Nice job.
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Thanks! And I certainly feel it sometimes. Good to know it’s not just me (: cheers
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there seems to be a line missing from the written one? otherwise great reading
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Ah, good catch! Sometimes I change stuff while I record and then forget to go back and add it to the written lines. Thanks for catching it (: cheers
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you’re welcome
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I would have liked the poem even without hearing it, but the recorded version takes it to another level! I look forward to reading – and hearing – more of your poetry.
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Thanks very much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. Cheers (:
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