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.