David Ben-Merre

Loganberries (version 4)


All it took was a nibble, really, coral seeds
Hell-stained, an unnatural combination
Of red and black; the dye secretly bleeds
Into your fingers. How the negotiation
Must have gone: two seasons here, two there,
The sleeping bags packed up with tents, ten-speeds,
Bathing suits, and skis. What do I care?

My turn (it's spring now) soon approaches. The gaps
And echoes stir... I want... je ne sais quoi...
It now seems so ridiculous to demand
You buy your roundtrip tickets here. Perhaps.
Just telephone ahead before you land;
I'll sweep the moss (as Hermes intercedes)
And then go out as far as Cho-fu-Sa.