i crush berries sweet black
my tongue pressed palate
pours lip-staining rivlets
swirls by goosebump calves the coldfresh water,
My father wades in the waning day.
careful a current! laughing
i drop my too-big gloves
a rock. a stumble. a startle? a bird! a thorn. a thrash.
a guess. a grab. a bee!
throw bubbles i said
make claps i laughed.
a shout. a shove. a splash. a grinning gasp.
Vines bright green wrap tendrils of memory.
i see sour, see? green. see?
good enough for me.
plucking the ripe ovaries without permission
wet jeans wrap skin.
little fingers sneaking, don’t watch daddy!
he catches me snacking. but look over there
caught in those brambles a baby dove his leg is stuck!
a trill. a gray. a chance?
a clutch. a wing.
a ride. a splint. a hope. a life.
he’ll be ok now, won’t he?
Let’s go home
mud-cracked fingernails
wash up and wipe the dirt off my chin,
smash the berries into a paste turns my fingers purple
Pour the sugar little sous chef
kneading ambition, flour clouds powder our smiles,
a feather. a father.
a pie.
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