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| The Blackberry Poems Al DeGenova |
Not Blackberries It is not blackberries or rain or wine or brandy you on my lips the scent of cream-blue dawn the taste of woman, you, the earth spring the lingering taste of living that days and years and pages of calendars and nightmares and miles of mountains and ten thousand showers cannot wash away. Feed Me Feed me your blackberries soaked in rain or sweet white cream in a flaming brandy sauce in your belly button down the zipper of your jeans balanced on the pucker of your lips in between your toes spread like jam over your breasts I eat you blackberry bitter or sweet your juice running down my chin. |
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