Salt Water

Salt Water

by Kelp

After shouting for hours my throat was sore.
You told me “to gargle with salt water.”
I open the cupboards and all of the drawers.
Until I find salt, spoon, cup and saucer.

I measure out two heaping teaspoons of salt
In the cup with hot water, I am not hesitant,
I stir with the teaspoon and the salt swirls about
But the solute refuses to dissolve in the solvent.

I stir with more vigor, squeeze the spoon tightly
And slowly the water becomes more and more salty.

Then the teaspoon slips out of my hand and my reach
And rattles on the floor like a fire alarm
“You break something in there?” you shout from the couch.
I make no response, but bend down for the spoon.

Then I taste the water with the tip on my tongue.
It does not seem salty enough so I pour
More salt from the carton until it’s half salt
And half water in the cup. And I stir.

I consider the mixture. It looks all right.
Like it might be the right cure for a sore throat.

I swig the concoction, gargle and spit.
Swig once again and gargle again, but
Instead of spitting this time, I swallow the liquid
Which courses its way down through my gullet.

My butt hits the floor quite unexpectedly,
Her silhouette in the doorframe, “What now?” she cries
I tilt my face up to her face and I try
To see her face but I can’t. There is salt in my eyes.

I cannot speak for the salt in my throat,
But I think many thoughts about water and salt.
“We’re made out of salt,” I think, “water and salt.
If these are the essential elements of life, then what

Harm can they do to my body?”