Blueberry Juice

I want to write a poem that

I wouldn't be ashamed

To read to a cow munching

Weeds in a sparse pasture.

Or tie to the leg of a squirrel

Before he races across phone


Then a haiku so seemingly

Natural a frog might mistake it

For a lily pad

And use it for a seat.

An ode written in blueberry

Juice with words so earthy

That, when I clutch it to my

Chest, in my grave the worms

Won't disdain to chew.

First published in The Antioch Review.