Soft as the rustle of winter grasses
But she couldn’t find where the wind
Eddies among the rocks in winter,
And she was exposed.
Inside her were enormous bands stretched across starlight
And hung on eagle’s cries
That brittled and snapped in all her loneliness,
Though at the last she got religion.
Was that when she knew
She wouldn’t be coming back?
At Andersonville, the soldiers
Died for lack of salt
Which could not be dug from the red clays of their prison,
Nor provided by their captors.
Some in anguish
Tore the word “salt” from their Bibles
And ate the word.
And what were they
But for salt?
And what was Paula
But for love?