NaPoWriMo Day#1: Prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net
The oracle provided me with this:
Don’t count on Lot’s wife:
her salty kiss only brings
copious tears. Lots.
from “Lotto” by Timothy Bradford
Your soft hands on my aching back
The very hands that inflicted the pain,
Now coming to soothe the hurt you’d caused
What was I to believe in?
The hurt in your eyes that I couldn’t erase
Or the words you carefully picked to cut me with?
I was so lost in all your contrary signs.
I wanted to trust in the gentle kisses
You placed on my tear stained cheeks
But the frenzy with which you tore me
Lingered in my mouth like a mouthful of salt.
I was so young then,
Could you not have forgiven me
A little easier, a bit sooner?
Because now every time I want to trust
The comfort in your kiss
I choke on the salt rising up my throat.