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The Survivors

All savor gone,
the waves break saltless
on a bland shore.
Tears taste of chalk.
There is no prick of grass or weed
to make the numbed eye blink.
Not even the color of fire
remains. Here where sin
has hardly left a dust
the few survivors sit.
They see the clouds
barely move. They see
an animal so starved for salt
it licks the twisted body
of Lot's wife---
their only standing monumnet.

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