Smithereens Press Chapbooks SP9 - 'Kodalith' by David Lloyd | Page 18

Salt
Salt ventures underfoot: a thread
Trodden back into the slab, dulled
Savour to the tongue, reminding.
A plain wind dresses the stone,
Histories scored into its face
It stands out from the dark room,
White remnant of the promised
Flight: what you do give to be of

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