I might settle on the Israeli shore of the Dead Sea;
I might build a cruciform shack and watch it recede.
Or, perhaps, I'll follow it as it goes,
Until it's a pond, until it's a puddle.
There at the final point of recession
Will be you, eyes jeweled over,
Bellyfull of salt, and a pouch
With rose-colored stones and
My name, embroidered blue.
Here, I think, I will retire.
I will lie beside you
Until the salt forms
ARLENE STARK is an English student at the University of Wisconsin-Superior. Her work explores themes of grief, growth, and sexuality. She can be found and contacted
at rosemalady.tumblr.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.