Blackberries, I’ll study you through lenses
of rain beads and dew shrinking under the sun,
examine your intersecting spheres of night skies
expanding round, plump, taut; find in the dark
incidental sea of organic molecules swelling each
drupelet a small seed promising more to come.
And then, blackberries, you clusters of tang
and tart, I’ll have you in bowls of heavy cream,
black geometries drenched in white, the differential
equations of spoon and mouth and dark matter
forever approaching and never reaching zero.
But mostly, blackberries, I’ll have you in handfuls,
canes still quivering, in a din of disgruntled jays
and crows as you stain my fingers, lips, tongue.