Monday, October 10, 2016

Lucy Alexander #40 Strange Fruit (apologies Abel Meeropol)

Up north no fruit familiar
the trees are seasoned by
rhythms that know no winter
no spring, only rain, no rain,
tears or blood-sap drips into forest
so dense with wait a while and the
buttress of the meeting trees
(now lonesome for the gathering)
up so north there is hardly north left
the snails are blue and the frogs are yellow
and the forests hold
secrets in the water.

Up north you are prey
to the salt in the water and
the huge moving ancient in the mud
and the tiny insects that
feast through your skin to your blood
don’t be mistaken or lonely for the moon
in the white flesh of this berry
in the tussock of the cassowary
snakes swim in the water
and the vines take hold and will
not release you.


  1. This is awesome I want to try every one, great subject

  2. Sorry Sarah - so many of these are totally toxic!


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.