French Like Wild Blackberries

That’s not quite French, she said, lips
Pursed to the side. It’s like a creole

Not one or the other. Just one house down
Always from being right, one footstep

One century, one president. With soul closed,
Judgement open of course she can’t see

Complex webs of light and life, drums you feel in
Your ribs, warm plantains, and french like wild blackberries

Rachel Vinciguerra (she/her) is a poet, children’s book author, and prose writer from Pittsburgh. She is constantly looking for the nearest body of water. Her work is forthcoming in Door is a Jar. More info at https://rachelvinciguerra.com.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to French Like Wild Blackberries

  1. L.K. Latham says:

    I attached to the reference for “creole” right away – my heritage, but I can see other meanings here too. A good one to think about.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.