Justin Vicari: Ghazal — Abundance

As kids, we loved the mulberry tree
in my cousin Kathy’s yard. We stood under that mulberry tree

like our own vine hut, eating our way through
the afternoons. Our faces, hands, from the mulberry tree

spattered purple, like the surfacing of recessive genes,
the special pigment of the mulberry tree;

the bottoms of our feet as if purple-socked,
no time to wash them as we cleaned the mulberry tree

of its blood-plump berries.
Running under that mulberry tree,

we drank free gifts of sweetness, and the tired
yells of adults, that we were killing the mulberry tree

by tasting so much of its flesh, that no abundance
had been planted and grown especially for us, no mulberry tree

always waiting to be picked. The house sold off,
Kathy moved away, I still dream of the mulberry tree,

still guzzle at that promise;
more than the blood we shared, that mulberry tree

made us the same, in our desires, sticky chins,
hearts pooled tall and round as the mulberry tree.

Copyright 2017 Justin Vicari

.