No Salt

No salt. No pepper.
No rice.
No tomato paste.
No almond flour.
No tortillas.
No refried beans.

No way to know, nor when or how.

No one to hear me scream
on the drive home
louder and louder
as the tightness in my chest
and quivering in my breath

No one to see the tears
rush down my face
as I drive by pink snow
beneath a cherry tree
each petal representing
someone who left, someone
who now is capable of being
the blossom and the tree
and the salt in my tears
all at once.

No one to say, definitively,
except me.

No one to see my head snap up
as I remember how it all works.

No one to nay-say me,
my life, my body, my energy,
my healing, my creativity, my spirit.

No one is safe from my love.