To call them berries
really is blasphemy
too bitter without
help of cinnamon, cloves, molasses

these cranberries
hanging in frosted bunches
bagged to be boiled
milled and canned

this collecting,
this pushing through dense brush
down grown over logging roads,
this speaking of the words
hey and

this balancing act
of supermarket and
these berries

this ketchup
they became

this hunger for anything
I can put ketchup on

Reach out and touch someone....

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