alana trachenko

The raspberry bush
heavy with juice, and swollen red berries
each branch offering a cover of leaves
so that I have to kneel down
to capture the bruised gems into my hands
into my mouth
to hold them to me before they are lost
to the earth below
to rot
Hunger and gluttony, both made whole
I’ve spent the summer eating
Dreaming
I am greedy and I open my mouth
I tip my hand to my lips
covered in red berry blood
my tongue alight with sweet and tart
my body aching with the weight
of all that I’ve consumed
how could I not think of you
as I hold their soft, pink purple flesh in my hands
as thorns cut at me, but half-heartedly
The raspberry bush begs me forward
winking its bounty through paper leaves
it begs: “touch me,
consume me,
discover me,
before the birds take everything away”

As a child, my mouth full of Russian
I didn’t know raspberry but malina
and the word tasted of its namesake
Malina: red, hot juice
Malina: small and sweet
Malina: seeds in my teeth
Malina: perfection
I imagined it was another one of my names
Unspoken under hot cottage air
I followed my mother
around the raspberry bush, my hand held out in expectation
Malina: eat well, my heart

You are back across the mountains
your wet mouth
your prismatic skin
I kneel at the altar of what is unchangeable
and unredemptive
Am I ever in your bed the way you’re in mine?
The shape and colour of you, fading
I want to hold you in my hands until the water runs red
I want you to cut me open once again

Come to me and put your mouth on my palm
It’s a new summer
And I am still yours

I kneel and wait
My skin is bruised and hot
My pulse threatens your memory