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pillars of salt

His eyes

pale and feverish and unforgiving
look for the redeeming light
of the sun and the falling sand

and the loose call of birds
in the silent caress
of her butterfly hand.

The past returns in a liquid woven strand
images braided into a sun gilded tress
like hers used to be –

or like a negligent
unkempt and abandoned rope

– and abraded by the passage of time
and the shadows overflowing
the emptiness before dawn:

the heart skips and stalls
and memories

become pillars of salt.

© Nina Light 2013 CC-BY-NC-ND<

featured image credit: Nir Arieli


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