Blackberry Bush
Next time, I will come back as a blackberry bush.
Maybe you will come back as a boy again this time.
You will find me by accident while playing in the woods.
Maybe you will recognize me, maybe not.
Somewhere, at the back of your mind, you will remember
that you always used to love blackberries.
Grinning self-consciously, you will check
that no one is looking.
You will stuff your mouth full of ripe berries,
their juices exploding at the back of your throat.
I will not come cheap.
Your torn trousers and scratched hands will bear witness to that.
You will come home and refuse supper.
Your blue tongue and mouth will give you away.
You will keep returning to me all summer.
When the autumn comes, do not be sad.
And remember to act surprised
when next time I decide to come back
as something else.
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