One fifth of humanity was marching into Portugal.
It was bringing with it
large barrels of its family’s familiar salt.
It tried to place one of the barrels
at one end
of a seesaw that was no longer capable of being fixed.
I knew, because I was at the other end of the seesaw.
I was asking the wind why it didn’t want my signature included.
I was passing out chocolate to anyone who could speak.
Lee Stern lives in Los Angeles.