All the Berries Have Different Names
Maybe weighing words
is like a visit to the grocers where piles of shapes in different hues fill visions— greens, cafes, reds, in rows on aisles of bare wood floors, in warm air confining capsicum, thyme, rosemary leaves A journey into another language where tangerines are sierra sweetness, and leeks lean proud against glossy, purple eggplants Bur pronunciation rolls awkwardly off my tongue when seeking an unusual fruit I am a spiked, unyielding, artichoke in hand preferring to present this with finesse— a dash of chili sprinkled on a mango Perfection's freshness when pen sheds paper, its serration a fringe to segue beyond borders, like golden olive oil drizzled on green beans
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