I replace hydrogen and all my acid
with metal – electropositive –
because I am radical, a rebel,
and salt of the earth; lending a lively wit
when my zest is a sailor in a cellar,
up to the neck in water and wine, mixed.
Aging something valuable
needs no salt, no deception, and no mine.
Gems I salt away will not dissolve with time.
They are yours to keep when tears evaporate.
A crystal crystalline can send my love
when salt lines drying in the sun
are no longer mine to taste,
when dry maps of sea-on-the-body
corundum, thirsting -
Salt of the earth, she.
Salting the earth, not me.
