Lit, Lit Poetry

Salt #3 by Nic Alea

We go chase
bush fires with
water guns, the
summer flies bite
into us like
salted meat, you
like salt, I
cry and you
eat, we take
video recordings of
lyre birds so
we can learn
how to mimic
each others voices,
I call up
Arthur Russell while on
my way home,
he tells me
he has replaced
all his teeth
with pillars of
salt, we like
salt, we turn
to look back
at each other
passing thru airport
security, they stamp
my ticket and
I watch you
walk away, I
think this means
I am supposed
to turn into
salt, Arthur
says the salt
is eating holes
in his gums,
I have replaced
all my teeth
with gumnuts and
the thick bristles
sway from my
mouth like dense
baleen, the lyre
birds are mimicking
car alarms and
chain saws, we
eat salted chocolate
on the forest
floor, what if
I was peeling
my skin like
a snake or
a eucalyptus tree,
you can’t just
put salt onto
a fire and
wish that it
will stomp out,
the land looks
so dry so
we try to
spit all over
the dirt, hope
it makes the
plants grow,
the eucalyptus is
peeling and you
collect the old
skin, write me
a simple love
note, I spray
us down with
wet dust, our
skin only slightly
burned, hope no
one throws salt
on us, not



Nic aleaNic Alea is a Bay Area based queer/trans* poet and educator. Nic co-hosts the open mic the New Shit Show which focuses on the production of new work. Nic has been published in Word Riot, kill author, the Evergreen Review, and Muzzle Magazine and is a 2012 Lambda LiteraryFellow and a semi finalist in Button Poetry’s chapbook competition for Sad Boy Slumber Party. You can find poems and other thoughts at