Salt  

She first came knowing

With sweet peas around her neck.

Pinpoints she thought were sure

Were to be dissolved away.

The certainty of solidness and ground

Were eroded by the constant

Trickle of dribbled water

Which never stopped

In the quietness and roar of the tides.

So, she decided her youth was salt

To be soaked up

In the vastness of shifting rhythms.

That concrete was a mini-death;

She would become salinity, brininess and seaweed.

Words: Kath Lovett

Model: Amie Ellis