Joakim Bergen

Salt

The salt congregates in the corners

Of the citadel;

Along the walls, it crawls,

It crawls.

The citadel of iron, it rusts

It rusts.

 

The salt moves, the salt breathes;

The salt is life,

And disease.

Salt is time,

Time is dying;

Toll the bell,

Seraph of hell.

 

The citadel congregates

‘Round the mound

Of salt.