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C.T. Salazar’s Followers (13)
C.T. Salazar
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Headless John the Baptist Hitchhiking: Poems
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American Cavewall Sonnets
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This Might Have Meant Fire
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published
2019
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Mid/South Sonnets: A Belle Point Press Anthology
by
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published
2023
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Forty Stitches Sewing a Body Against a Ramshackle Night
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published
2020
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2 editions
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“Mostly I’d Like to Be a Spiderweb
because in the rain I’d look like a cracked window
without a church to belong to. You could look
through me and see the world in front of us.
One time, my ex-lovers made a road of tongues for me.
I took my shoes off to feel the song a little better,
and cut a note short with each step.
I want to tell you how many churches
I’ve built to praise little things that deserve
more than their few seconds of existence.
Like the time I opened my door, smelled hibiscus
and knew you were home.
Like the time a child told me there was a god
And because he was smiling, I believed him.
Mostly, I’d like to be a spiderweb to feel you walk through.
To see if you’ll take me with you, despite the spider I bring.
— C.T. Salazar, from micro collection This Might Have Meant Fire: Poems, INCH quarterly (no. 39, Summer 2019)”
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because in the rain I’d look like a cracked window
without a church to belong to. You could look
through me and see the world in front of us.
One time, my ex-lovers made a road of tongues for me.
I took my shoes off to feel the song a little better,
and cut a note short with each step.
I want to tell you how many churches
I’ve built to praise little things that deserve
more than their few seconds of existence.
Like the time I opened my door, smelled hibiscus
and knew you were home.
Like the time a child told me there was a god
And because he was smiling, I believed him.
Mostly, I’d like to be a spiderweb to feel you walk through.
To see if you’ll take me with you, despite the spider I bring.
— C.T. Salazar, from micro collection This Might Have Meant Fire: Poems, INCH quarterly (no. 39, Summer 2019)”
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“I could believe the soul is a crater—the impact of
your hands on my chest. Fingertips & lips, forest
& fire. You taste like cinnamon, or cyanide.
— C.T. Salazar, from “You Called Me Castaway and I Called You,” micro collection This Might Have Meant Fire: Poems, INCH quarterly (no. 39, Summer 2019)”
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your hands on my chest. Fingertips & lips, forest
& fire. You taste like cinnamon, or cyanide.
— C.T. Salazar, from “You Called Me Castaway and I Called You,” micro collection This Might Have Meant Fire: Poems, INCH quarterly (no. 39, Summer 2019)”
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