Magic of Salt
Hurled across porch railing;
didn’t plummet in puke.
Ejected dark delusions,
stomached too long.
three tall, briny salt water
a day for a month,
down the hatch, for
And I think:
Wars fought over salt, now oil. Armies march across nations with preserved rations. Every war can continue. If you have salt, you really have something. Resolve and dissolve. Salt. Does this make sense? Does it? Down the hatch!
With oil, electricity, and refrigeration, we traverse the globe! Should I drink oil? No, I’m schizophrenic, but that’s crazy.
Doctors wonder, “What is wrong?”
Maybe, “I drank shitloads of Pepto-Bismol?”
But, the ultrasound says,
knows what it means?
“Kidney stones,” but to me,
that sounds like a hammer’s fall
from our roof. A crowbar
wind, wild and heavy, strips old shingles away.
“Not covered,” The insurance agency says.
Hammer’s covered by winter;
So, I wonder, Who stole it?
Salt thaws ice, hammer revealed.
“Now, help fix the roof…”
Last year, my friend needed a transplant.
“Kidney stones,” he says.
Every time I vomit now, I think:
His visit was depressing. He asked for a hug, and I said, “I don’t hug. I don’t like to be touched.” That’s just too much salt. Tough like nails. “But, thank you for visiting… I haven’t seen you in forever. Where are you staying?”
He’s hurting, but, they’ll fix him.
I, too, am okay.
every month, with
two energy drinks
“Too much caffeine and sugar!”
“What is milk thistle?” I ask.
“Come back when this is out of your system.
Taking blood pressure is useless right now.”
I have two systems, but I like yours.
And, I will give you a shit ton of hugs.
“Just take the pills,” they say.
But I hate blood tests
that monitor my liver.
About the Author: Jason Kish is a freelance writer and web designer. His work centers on issues of love, death, and mental health. You can email him here.