salt

there's an itch
in my foot,
with every step
taken or not,
drawing me over
to feel my skin,
to remember
to stop,
to look,
to not be blind,
to what is;
there's a leech
stuck to those pores,
sucking blood
that needs letting,
and a handful of salt
with eyes open,
soaking
smarting spirits
to close,
to curl up
and let go.