Blackberries
In the delivery room. I
landed on the smell of my mother
even then we couldnt find eachother.
She only woke from her dead emotions
For me In june
When we searched for ripe blackberries.
She glowed at the site of the blackish fruit
She awwwwwd at the perfectly shaped bush
She kneeled as natures breath helped drop her blessings.
She tenderly plucked and cradled each one in her danity hand
And placed the overflow in the tiny folds of mine.
Be careful She said
Dont hold them to tight She said
The juice——— Stains.
If only i had never washed my hands. At least. At least.
we would have that.
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