local_library Blackberries

by Cara Elise Taylor

Published in Issue No. 231 ~ August, 2016

The ripe ones get picked

piled on silver flatware

for gawking and admiration.

Exquisite enough to be devoured.

The ripe ones end up on bumpy tongues.

White canines cut through and between gorgeous bubbles,

form black blood pools in unhinged mouths,

stain pink gums.

The meal reveals itself with every barbed grin

at its sweetness.


Farmer is praised for dislocating the good ones,

before burning the bramble.

The rejects get lit.

React to flames

to sun and water they’ve never tasted.

The rejects burst into dry bits and pieces,

sprout arms,

grasp at sweetness.


They endeavor to escape the burden of being strange fruit.

account_box More About

Cara Elise Taylor is an American Freelance Writer with a B.A. in Creative Writing from the University of Redlands. This is her first published poem, but in the last year she has been published in The Redlands Review and The Culture Trip. She's currently living in Chiang Mai, Thailand.