Salt Tears & Bitter Flowers
Published in
2 min readNov 14, 2016
A poem in response Szalt’s LAX Festival presentation of FLWRS, Sept. 30 — Oct. 1, 2016
I. Bathroom Floor
She cowers in a corner
Curled over into self-examination.
Salt tears springing from her eyes.
Blood juice spilling from her womb.
Girlhood is as finite as a period.
The body is bittersweet.
II. House of Worship
She stands tall like a pyramid.
Upon crouching mounds
Her legs are unshakeable
Pillars staunch and broad.
She rises, a powerful pagoda.
The body is a temple.
III. Great Expectations
Gray hairs on young heads
Aged before their time
A myriad of Miss Havishams
Caught between splattered bridal bouquets
And the silvered strands of time
The body is a contradiction.
