Sweet as Salt

The Russian and I
have breakfast on my porch
without shirts on
our coffee tangled with algae and saltwater
our fingers making knots in rough strands
of sandy hair
and we break into fits of delirious giggles
overcome by whims and urges
deluging
dumb blind happiness

We have breakfast with cereal
without our bras on
to discuss very seriously
every day of our lives
without knowing what life is
and how quite tragically
we love every boy we’ve ever met
without knowing what love is
and we talk about sex
without ever having had it

We have breakfast lying in the grass
without our shirts on
neighbors glance
at our illicit pastime as they walk by
we tremble with laughter
enthralled by our insignificance
drunk with our vanity
admiring how under the sun
our skin
looks and tastes like honey

The Russian and I
quench the thirst
for shameless exposure
childish indecency
violent impulses
waning triumphs
while we murmur velvet laughter
into arched necks
telling tales of the sweet
and the sinister

during breakfast

If I kissed her
our lips and aching laughter
would taste
sweet as salt

The Russian and I
got lost at breakfast
before we knew
before we were shamelessly exposed
secretly prudes
secretly afraid
of
sex and boys and love and life
before we had dignity
before life
took us
in a sweet assault
the sweet assault
sweet as salt
in a chained unrest
before we were chained
by pride
before.
before lunchtime

Angelica Modabber
Age 17, Grade 12
Writopia Lab
Gold Key

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