Last night we spoke
of mangoes, pomegranates,
juice-drip, the many seeds.
Curled against my basket
your hot fruits nestle.
Your ribs’ shelf rests
my right hand,
its silver cherry.
I wake, your fingers
fluttering across my breast like
a flock of golden-eyed sparrows,
hungry for those tiny purple berries
I forget the name of them.
Twitter @justaskrache
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"Tell me what you plan to do with your one wild, precious life." Mary Oliver
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