Salt to Make a Sea


I cannot hold such emptiness

—the only meaning, the meaning


we make & the way time tugs

the body down, the body named


bone, named brain, the color

of dust & tremor, the soft meat


& the bag it lives in. We beg

from the body; it shivers &


spits—we settle for desire, in-

commensurate sorrow, for a life


like too much water, shallow & wide,

for enough salt to make a little sea.


Renée Ashley, USA (1947 -)


from The View from the Body.  Copyright © 2016 by Renée Ashley.  Reprinted by permission of Black Lawrence Press.




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