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Poetry

Ancient salt burned
in the Temple incense,

but also consumed. Mined, gathered
from flats or evaporated Dead Sea brine—

theories vary. So strong,
hands were washed after meals

because a careless touch to the eye
could cause blindness.

Lord, make us this
pungent, that others

might be thrown down
blind, lifted up at the sight of love,

like Saul or the three you blessed
into terror when you transfigured.

Do not toss us aside
and wash your hands.

Change us.
Flavor us with danger.


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