Blueberries grew in my hands. Cobalt appendages.
Or was it the grapes that suspend from vines.
Harvesting all except one, the largest I left alone.
The single berry seemed too valuable to eat.
It was a moment of opportunity.
This blueberry- grape seemed to breathe.
Deep in my gut I felt a raw connection,
the fruit had become a new layer of skin.
I sat on the outer perimeter of the garden,
surrounded by unfamiliar trees
empty patches of dry space.
The green life artificially placed in the corners.
time revealing itself in the movement of others.
there was silence.
never has there been
a deep pause of sound
in my waking life.
I sat, anxiety seeped.
Fears of bottomless thought,
of facing myself in front of others.
My director there in masquerade.
damage to her straight back.
sitting at the edge of the table.
Gray and hunched.
A drastic end of life old.
a motionless curved line
her head in her knees.
I watched a frozen doll take over.
I mingled with stillness at the long table.
Watching inaudible laughter.
She came to remind me of the blueberry
that now felt like a bone of mine.
whispered in my ear and told me to eat, to pluck it.
I broke it off and felt the rush
Euphoria as the blueberry grew
into the size of a plum and burst
Out came the gushing of water,
spilled like the sands of time.
All that was left were the soft blush insides.
She continued to tempt me.
I focused on her short body
the berry sinking in my hand.
As if I had broken magic.
the plum deflated,
I got lost in water.