wild berries…

when I watch you move
it’s as if
my eyes are old hands
uncovering and furtively picking
wild berries
before they fall

it’s as if
I am parched
and you are water
and my eyes drink
till I am quenched
by your smooth taut skin

it’s as if
you are a gift I open
my eyes long fingers
slowing untying a thin ribbon
that slips
beneath crisp paper,
smoothed out
by one long slow glance

  — Marilyn Dumont —

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