Plucked
I watch the raspberries darken
to a blushing shade of maroon
and think about the man who had
a heart attack two days ago and
the absolute violence
of his failed resuscitation.
I stand in the sun and pluck them
as they turn, then bite them warm,
plump and hollow. Raspberries are ready
to pick when they slip
from the stem without resistance.
I’d like to stay here, past sunset, tucked among
the arching branches, even though they bite back
just a little bit. I’d like the bees
to confuse me
with something good and useful.
Sharon Denmark is an artist and writer from the southern part of Virginia. Her written work has appeared in ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Watershed Review, ballast, and Floyd County Moonshine. Her visual work has appeared in Wild Roof Journal, Moss Puppy, and as cover art for 3Elements Review.