The Snowberry in Me
Hear Mary-Jane read this poem
Barren the stalk, the air is clear —
delicate and small, yet dangles the berry,
beguiled. Ice-cold fragrance hugs
a jam-packed silver void.
delicate and small, yet dangles the berry,
beguiled. Ice-cold fragrance hugs
a jam-packed silver void.
Silken, fragile, the berry’s sheer skin —
both taut and tender in my mind,
bounds a baleful, inward tug —
the pull of netherwordly time.
both taut and tender in my mind,
bounds a baleful, inward tug —
the pull of netherwordly time.
Vitreous roots swallow the light,
leaves, ironclad, shimmer and glisten,
the calyx, leaf fibres, close-packed and lucent:
leaves, ironclad, shimmer and glisten,
the calyx, leaf fibres, close-packed and lucent:
this phlegmatic solitude defines the I.
Your love is my frost.
I carry your winter within me.
I carry your winter within me.