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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345498" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lost Ingredient</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Almost yesterday, those gentle ladies stole <br>to their baths in Atlantic Cuty, for the lost <br>rites of the first sea of the first salt <br>running from a faucet. I have heard they sat <br>for hours in briny tubs, patting hotel towels <br>sweetly over shivered skin, smelling the stale <br>harbor of a lost ocean, praying at last <br>for impossible loves, or new skin, or still <br>another child. And since this was the style, <br>I don't suppose they knew what they had lost. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Almost yesterday, pushing West, I lost <br>ten Utah driving minutes, stopped to steal <br>past postcard vendors, crossed the hot slit <br>of macadam to touch the marvelous loosed <br>bobbing of The Salt Lake, to honor and assault <br>it in its proof, to wash away some slight <br>need for Maine's coast. Later the funny salt <br>itched in my pores and stung like bees or sleet. <br>I rinsed it off on Reno and hurried to steal <br>a better proof at tables where I always lost. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Today is made of yesterday, each time I steal <br>toward rites I do not know, waiting for the lost <br>ingredient, as if salt or money or even lust <br>would keep us calm and prove us whole at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345498" data-title="The Lost Ingredient de Anne Sexton" data-description="Almost yesterday, those gentle ladies stole 
to their baths in Atlantic Cuty, for the lost 
rites of the first sea of the first salt 
running from a faucet. I have heard they sat 
for hours in briny tubs, patting hotel towels 
sweetly over shivere..."></div>
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