I have to lie down

The globular berries dripping black-wet

Hang heaviest inside.

I mourn the fallen ones too long undiscovered.

Some might be saved.

The deer have trespassed, by night,

Tearing the wick flesh of leaves

With doughy lips,

And the berries are shriveled, tart eraser ends

Where everyone looks.

But what delight goes undisguised?

In the secret shade, looking up into it,

A gasping coolness startles.

The branches are cupping their aubergine clusters

As you would a live animal.

I tickle them.

They loosen in my hands.

The fruit bolts juice over my cuticles

Signaling almost invisible ants.

I close my eyes, arms still plunged

In the center of the bush

Allowing their little bodies to

Work over me in the gorged sweetness, a second.

There is nothing that is not given.