Poems about places that aren’t cities: the Dead Sea

The sea is salty;
it is full of salt.
We call it the dead sea
because nothing can live in it.

The sea is window-clear.
I can see our feet.
I can see lumpy chunks of salt
clinging to its floor.

You bring a handful of sea
to your lips and then
you spit it out.
The sea is bitter and so are we.

The sea is salty.
It is full of salt.
In Jerusalem,
they’ve started another war.

We call it the dead sea
because nothing can live in it.
We should call this the dead land.
No one can live in it.

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