“Whatever Can’t Be Smashed Can Be Walked On”

Good people, essential people, salt
Of the earth that has otherwise lost

Its savor people, are like lake ice.
Treated to enough cold, they congeal.

They thicken. They grow stronger. They close
Over the fishing holes cut through them

To access actual nutrition.
They bear blades of meaningless cursive

Calligraphy from those for whom ice,
Good ice, strong ice, looks entertaining,

A diverting opportunity.
You do know what enough salt can do.