Blueberries

Blue globe, blue pearl, blue crown
in the mouth, blue world, blue sphere,

now blue plot, blue meridian, sky
the skin of heaven before stars

impossible space, that infinite span
where berries ripen together,

a constellation, no, just one juicy globe,
word ripening to full stop.

Let it fall into my hand
as I touch,

as lovers coming from their grief
turn and fall–the pinch, the drop

the handful of blue marbles lolling on the tongue
the split, the mash, the lip

roll a comma between my teeth,
a syllable caught in the throat.

I don’t say cease, this period
grows blue from green, a backward bruise.

We remember pain ripening on the stem
and then inexplicably dropping from us.

Teach me how to mash pulpy berries
then spread them sweet on thick sop.

 

 

***

Lois Marie Harrod’s 16th collection Nightmares of the Minor Poet was published by Five Oaks Press in June 2016. Fragments from the Biography of Nemesis (Cherry Grove Press) and the chapbook How Marlene Mae Longs for Truth appeared in 2013. She’s widely published in journals and online: see www.loismarieharrod.org .

Read ‘Committing Poems’ also by Lois Marie Harrod, here.

 

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