“You won’t want to eat those,”
Aunt said.
“Those are Pigeon Grapes
not for eating.”
I knew she was right
as
she did not tell us lies.
Still, I tried them
and ran home
puckered,
crying,
wise.
2 thoughts on “Aunt & Grapes”
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Martina, what a compact, self-contained, gorgeous little poem! Its title suggests a painting, and sure enough, the poem is a kind of painting. Two characters, dialogue, denouement, reflection and insight . . . I’ll take that back. It’s not a painting, it’s a short story in four spare, well-lineated sentences. Well done!
Bless you for your kind words. I’m very happy you like the poem. Thank you.