Yasmin Morais Torquato  

My father was grilling meat

in the backyard

I stole a grain of sea salt

and ate it.

​

It made me want more.

The tingling sensation in my tongue

brings memories of

waves I’ve swallowed in my mother’s land,

And tears I’ve tasted coming from

my eyes.

​

It teases my mouth,

Salivating for that familiar taste of

memories I have felt,

So enhanced- Flavor enhancer. Flesh preserver—

but long gone.

​

It crashes as salty as the ocean

water is all I need.

A leap so cold, it wakes me from whatever dream

I dreamt, of a land far away to kill

that thirstiness for more, that salt

I stole from the meat my

father was grilling in the

backyard I no longer know

It was real.