day 22

you can’t tell
which kind of
berry is
good
just by
looking
at it

there are black
plump spheres
on prickle bushes
past the
fence

where a dog
guards them
viciously
but won’t
eat them

I want them
like the
mother in
Rapunzel

I want them
in salads
and drinks
and raw juicy
pulp

somehow I think
if I have them
I might be cursed
perhaps the dog
is there as
a warning

I never liked those
warnings
always too
tempting

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