yet another new style; a more descriptive one, and I like it. I’m going to try to emulate this more. Written in my day planner on the bus as I saw a woman eating blackberries.
I want blackberries
when they sit and sleep beside me in the sunlight,
tearful and present,
standing in their own protected corner of the universe.
I eat them.
It doesn’t feel like a crime to.
It feels like tasting sweet oblivion,
like walking around in a silent wood with the sweet earth beneath you, in the nightfall
it feels like sharing a secret.
we will meet at the garden gate,
and you will eat blackberries in the sparkling sunlight
and we will spell out the secrets to each other,
and it will be good.
Backsides extending on the lawn,
blue and a purple-staining juice,
flowing mouth, the river,
face-to-face with our dear selves,
as sweet as rotting blackberries;
who’d want it any other way?
Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry