Rosmarie Waldrop
SALTWOMAN AT THE EDGE OF DAY
beyond even
a faint identity
sleep strokes and purrs
eyeballs shrink under their lids
against
violent need of space
that a taste of salt
could so provoke
but now that the game's lost
outside
the pale tide from outside
dissolves the images
in accusations
(the dream of pubic tattoos
of ladders and snails
the murky occasion where
the air recoils
once the murder's accomplished)
my chin
my only
my body strange as a thing
Copyright Rosmarie Waldrop 1980