This Is The Piano Dropping

When I hear your name
I taste blackberries
bury their pretty faces into
the spaces I saved for you
No part of me is safe,
when my tongue paints itself in the blood of
the wounded berries half believes
it’s name is your name
the way I pick you up with no hesitation and stitch you into my throat so when I open mouth
Blackberries fall down my lips like spring just kissed me on accident

Of all the sweet there is
yours stings the least
When the lonely cold sweeps
through my lonesome bones
your sweet never leaves
Your sweet stitches a sweater
so warm and thick
the thread is honey, a needle as nimble as blackberries and I harvest the fruit, each root runs through this hoop I use when my heart is out of room

your name
is a small season
It brings blackberries and blackberry seeds
when they seep
i sing
the birds they lower their wings
every chance they get
I sit
a very thin layer of soil
the blackberries I pick
from your name bury their
sweet into me
the taste stays on my lips
and I take my time
taking you apart