Mulberry Slide
Mulberries are dark. No colour.
Their skin holds beneath it the promise of silk.
The great bowls of fruit in the markets draw the light to them. The mulberries are black.
The wide arches of the mulberry trees in the street where I walk hide the people from the sun.
Birds feast loudly in their branches.
The black fruit drops, and a stranger’s foot crushes it to a piercing red – a child’s blood under foot.
My foot slides on the mulberry crush, and I almost fall.
I am a stranger here.
The mulberries promise me silk.
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About the Creator
Jane Griffiths
From England, born in London, have been a translator, editor, and politician. The call of the world later took me to other places. I live in Tajikistan.
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