Found this among my files...

Salt Flats
By Marthy Angue

The augury of clouds,
The mounting skies;
Seasons caught by flat, unblinking eyes
Framed by mud and grass, hand-packed and filled
far below the brim with smoky, murky brine,
like inch-deep glass,
like spilled wine.

On the longest road from home,
Between stops, rests and telephone lines,
You watch the heavens cast their burning lots;
In gentle, wind-cut shards, you gleam with signs;
Revealed by loose-lipped stars no wind could sway,
Nothing new will come
Nothing now will stay.

Peering past storm-ceilings,
Gather gods-
Morning-brilliant Venus, Crimson Mars,
Looking down to see their faces bright:
Above your field of mirrors, heaven flies-
Light in your cheeks
Salt in your eyes.

And on the day the sun
Takes up his turn,
No gesture leaves your face but praise
And by your worship, he will rise in pride
Your tears shall dry up on his summer's days:
You die;
Only salt remains.