Skip to main content
SearchLoginLogin or Signup

Picking Cherries up Howell Holler

Published onDec 09, 2024
Picking Cherries up Howell Holler
·


Picking Cherries up Howell Holler

 
Unlike the hybrids darkly maroon in stores,
these that glowed red from the inside
followed a delicate translucent white.
The Juliana brooch my grandmother wore—
roan rhinestones of the cherry tree
donned her old home place. 
Rudolph noses, their guidance 
balanced the branch's shaky tight wires
as we reached toward more light. 

My tongue felt for the seam of the pit
long after the last rags of fruit weathered.
Bare feet felt for sandy ruffles in the road.
Darkness smelled where a spring
poked its finger through the bank.
Then, I spit out all possibility 
from deep in the mountains,
deep within me,
deeper still in childhood,
the meager attempt
to give something more 
than was given to me.

Vol. 36, no. 2, 2008

Comments
0
comment
No comments here
Why not start the discussion?