Blueberries

After the offering

I watch purple blood

Pooling in a bowl.

Ripped from their mothers,

Tossed, frozen,

Little dark pebbles

Rattling together in a plastic bag.

Zapped into warm limpness,

Sugared,

Destined for digestive turmoil.

It is such a shame,

Pretty blueberries designed

For such a fate.  

Eileen Kinzly                                                   

Stuck

Spinning my wheels

Walking with lead boots

                                                   Stuck in concrete.

Struggling uphill

Sand rolling me farther

                                                   Downhill.

Swimming upstream against

A thick molasses

                                                   Torrent.

Walking on a one-foot leg.

Untying knots with no fingers,

Chewing with no teeth,

                                                   No tongue.

My life goes nowhere,

    But if I stop,

                                                   I lose everything.

Eileen Kinzly