Poetry Soapbox

Suck Salt

By Lorna King
PRIDE Poet

for you I
reserved a place,
completely yours
till you poisoned me.
Gave me stories filled
with mines; offered me
guarantees which froze
in the cold icy winter;
melted in the summer;
then slipped away, to
water flowers in
some garden-
not mine.
Granny;
she, warned me-
that I would suck salt-
dried island water; and long for rain
to camouflage tears, long for water, to dilute salt.

Lorna King, who worked in various hotel management capacities in Jamaica and in the U.S.A. before migrating to Canada in 1998, was awarded the Order of Distinction, Officer Class, by the Jamaican government in 2009. She is also a former President of P.A.C.E. (Canada) and a Director of the People Bridge Charitable Foundation.