Godsalt

salt. i’m salt. sorry. i’m B-salt. i’m Bil-salt.
ok, i’m pelican bill. i’m dinner bill. i’m a comic book called
B-, no, Salt, no,
i’m a comic called Robin Salt Salt Williams.
i’m reading a comic called Sui-salt and it’s full of my friends dissolving.
salty, sorry. let me
salt, start over–

i’m driving to Galveston with my salt salt friends again.
we are going to our favorite diner by the beachsalt and
everyone’s still alivesalt.
no one has dissolved yet. it’s salt ok.
i’m salty, sorry, i mean, i mean to say
sodium chloride but say sodium cyanide–
it’s an easy mistake.
all my friends drink the wrong one accidentally on purpose.
all my friends are turning into salt,
in public pools, fountains, bathrooms, sprinklers–
they don’t dive
into the anxietywater to die,
because they’re already swimming in it. they just
dis
solve.
and so do i.
i’m a lot of
i’m Lot and everyone i love turns

into salt.
why do they have to do that?
why do they boil over onto my cheeks?
how come crying feels a lot like cooking?
how come it comes so easy in a public pool?
how come everyone and no one sees me,
and i’m here and not here,
and how come i like it so much? dissolving like you.
why’d you’d rather die than come back to our diner with me?
i’m running out of friends to have 3 a.m. eggs with.
i’m spilling– salty, sorry. ahhh salt. SALT.
i’m i’m not mysalt right now.
i’m trying to salt it together.
i sob my selfsalt into salt and salt
and salt and salt and sink into the boiling water of this page,
and i come up here:

    i’m in Galveston, Texas.
    i’m dreaming of its chemical plants, ten minutes till dawn.
    i’m on the beach, where all the trash of the Gulf washes up,
    all the factory lights and white bags like
    glow worms in a cave, like spilt
    salstars.

    i name the pelicans after my dead friends.
    they swing low and scoop me into their bills,
    like a spoon of salt.
    i don’t know if i’m being carried or eaten.
    i don’t know if i’m the Atlantic or the trash in it.

i’m a comic book called Gulf of Mexico.
in it, old women draw circles of salt around graves like white lace.
it keeps loved ones from wandering out
when they rise again.
it keeps them from leaving again.
it keeps my grieving in one place.

i’m writing a comic book called You
and you stand up from the page and wave.
but good thing i i wrote this in salt salt.
i can’t say my name but i can spell it in salt
the word I is a beach of salt.
the Gulf’s white foam really is a salt veil.
it has the same salinity as my blood.
it keeps my dead friend inside me,
it keeps me inside me, with him, thank god.

i’m reading a comic book called You and it ends too early.
i’m reading a comic book called You and it ends too early.

all these words wash up and cover us.
i’m salty, sorry, salty. salty. i’m so
so sorry i’m so salty
i’m book of Isaiah say salt say

    He will swallow up death for all time,
    And the salt salt Godsalt will wipe tearssalt away from all salt
    salt
    faces
    salt
    salt.

– Bill Moran