Salt

The air is tepid
stagnant as the swamps that puncture this swollen land
I was born to this, welcomed in August
my squalling form balking at the lack of temperature control
sweat beads unbearably
where skin touches skin or cloth
as if this large organ forgets how to breathe here
and I wonder if I could drown in it.
In a show of irony
to follow with the theme of things
I am chilled bone cold and ill
with the feeling of feet that sweat like ice
left under this cruel unseasonal sun.
Whisper, I hear your mind
wading through the same crush
perhaps we will be battered in the same wave
and salt will finally feel fresh on weathered skins.
I move through the house
cradle my cat, but salt does not penetrate his coat
so I stroke until the air turns black with fur,
if I had a decent lamp
this space would be red and brown
but even animals are untrustworthy now.
I don't think about words like,
of course we move through alone
and, how could anyone think otherwise
when recalling our beginnings and conjuring our ends,
because there are no words left, only their ghosts,
feeble ineffectual feelings.
I remember when I was a kid and smile for that time
before I was forced to accept myself.
I move through the house
I touch my fingers together, every rough tip
as if that were doing something
as if time must be occupied
before I realize I'm pressing too hard
too late and I'm causing myself pain,
it seemed perfectly normal at the time.
Objects are extracted and moved
I feel their futility in my hands
an unbearable weight, beautiful waste
furniture is pushed around
shoved beneath hands so covered in salt
that I might slip and crash to the floor like
surf breaking, but less majestically
and with no beautiful sounds.
Shut my phone up with the silverware
so that it can learn to become more useful
hide my eyes to keep my mouth company
someone must see me smile.
I don't think of strange words
and what particular meanings they might possess for me.
Expressions are all pulling in the wrong places
I've got sleeves on my legs
and socks pulled up over my wrists
and I wonder why I'm looking so crooked in the mirror
mouth on backwards and I'm forgetting how to speak.