just like salt

she's all salt, only loved when its cold out,
pressed flat by echos and silloheutes;
she sunk beneath the yoke of a jaundiced sky
always boasting its vicegrip clamp
on her blunted maws, ever
more wasted, this cure for starving hollows,

on a centerway night, a brazen
limbo of wax and wane, she drank
up the moon, only to brood in her silver lattice
of smoke and mirrors. she's all corners,
in this undulating heep of leches. she's minded
nothing of a storm inking through her veins

always only waiting. a stranger carried in
on the lupine swagger of a low tide undertow,
his hands were made to carve a wrecking
ball from his bones. he's all sauce,
no spectre, strangling his whisper, "girl,
you better not hibernate your heart."

now: in a skim pinch of weeks
her eyes burn like cherries in the pitch.
And in the shatter of her edificed stupor.

she dances,
this naked devil.