Too Small to Hold You
By Kate Reavey
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Too Small to Hold You - Kate Reavey
Climb
Abandon
after a line by Robert Francis
Today, I abandoned all my other lives
to go berry picking in the Sequim Valley. I rejoiced
with the soft tug of each fruit
as I held on
and it let go
of the branch.
Every few berries, I put
a single one on my tongue
and warm
it dissolved
abandoning juices, filling my mouth.
I stopped picking when my small bucket
was full and walked back to the car,
laughing aloud at the question my mother had asked
when she last visited this farm: Do you weigh us
before and after picking, to check if we’ve eaten any?
The farmer’s son was watching over the cash register.
It turns out his father died the winter before.
We just check your tongue, he said. Purple tongues
are a real giveaway ‘round here.
And today, my fingers
stained with juice, I call to him--
My tongue’s a giveaway. Come see.
I am full of life as he looks up,
abandons the shade of the little hut,
steps into the open light,
and I half-expect him to break into dance,
spin me through aisles and aisles of berries,
color spilling from the bucket
hung loose on my wrist.
Sound
for Bruce and Tracey
It would be easy to describe
the horse’s flank—those thick,
dark muscles invite metaphor
and the word flank resonates
with all that power of speaking
something solid, something
that