MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Pompeii Dog by Ophelia Sikes

Table of Contents

Poetry


Plum Thicket

Michael Harty

One July I watched a little green snake
hunting crickets in the shade.
Somewhere there was a mockingbird.

The musk of ferment rose from fallen fruit.
Among the woven branches
I stretched for ripe plums.

Later, making jelly, their juice would sting
the scratches on my arms
and I would smile, remembering.




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