The biggest snowstorm to hit Denver in twenty years. What is the world to do, freed from the shackles of the eight hours needed to earn its daily salary? Only on a day such as this does salt overshadow gold. Salt, with its lips of blue fire, common as gossip, ordinary as sin. Like true love and gasoline, missed only when they run out. Salt spilling from a blue container a young girl is holding, along with an umbrella, on the label of a blue container of salt that the woman across the street, under her umbrella is pouring behind her left rear wheel, to no avail this discontented, unbuttoned December morning.
This is a small poetry club that started as a poetry email exchange between two friends. Our goal is to read a poem everyday, and this blog is one way to help keep us accountable. There is only one valid rule in poetry club: there are no rules in poetry club. Read any poem, in any order, with any or no interactions. You decide. We only suggest you read poetry!
4 Mar: "Poem for Salt" by Leroy V. Quintana
Poem for Salt
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I would have never understood this poem before I moved to Jersey. That blue salt is crazy.
ReplyDeleteSalt as currency lol...if the salt cannot help people get to work on time there is no money to be made, how interesting...
ReplyDeleteBlue salt, how?