A buoyant mind needs bags
to float in breathable atmosphere.
Thirsty for heights; damaged dirigibles roam,
but I live in salt–
bathed in for centuries,
mined in trace amounts
steering chemical barrels
through reason’s rapids.
Rocks fortifying a stony attitude,
although, not officially approved.
© khartless 2022, All Rights Reserved
Artwork: Morton Salt Girl
D’Verse Poets Pub: De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) requested a savory poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word salt. Join us in some tasty brevity.