The Myth of Mulberries

My mother is picking mulberries again.

Yes, the real thing. I know 

I always thought they were mythical

and that they grew on bushes only

in children’s books and nursery rhymes, 

exalted every May Day

and used to teach children

basic hygiene and household chores 

in melody.

The ripe ones are edible, you know,

and they grow in huge trees.

Who would have thought it? Not I. They are

baked into 4th-of-July firecracker pies

and used to add tartness to tea.  

But unripe mulberries are toxic

and can cause wild hallucinations—

a fairytale poison apple,

the big bad wolf and pixie dust.

Children’s books do not teach us that.

Yet, this is the truth about mulberries.

-

"The Myth of Mulberries" is published in the 2020 Winter Issue of Poetry Quarterly.

Eric

No Longer

I had to update my status today.
I am no longer tied, in the social media,
to your picture or timeline. The news
was sudden again but not a surprise—
a disappearing act I've grown used to.
I do not assume some wicked intent.
I am no longer paranoid. We still
have each other in real time, in bed
in the morning and before the light
goes out at night, in the kitchen
where we almost always make dinner
together, and lunch is still worth
eating late or early (or even quickly,
if need be) so we can be face to face.
I am not alone in some forest of
falling trees with no one here to hear,
no one to see me. I am no longer
clinging only to tangible evidence
of our relationship—the PDAs and
risqué trysts in dark alleys. I have to
believe that the bruises will fade, and
we will remain “in a relationship,”
even if “it is complicated.” I mean, really,
what is a “domestic partnership” between
a man and a woman anyway?

-


"No Longer" is included in the 2012 Prize Winner Issue of Poetry Quarterly. An on-line preview of the issue can be viewed here.

On December 18, 2013, "No Longer" was read by Conrad Balliet on Conrad's Corner, WYSO 91.3 FM as part of his local poets project.


Eric