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Forage
Brianna Flavin(bio)

Damp in the rain coming
over blue mountains, 

so many apples passing
like ships between our teeth.  

Our thanks for berry. Our thanks
for the grain in our skins. 

For wild weeds
that feed the body,  

what water we nip,
its woody sweet. 

Forests full of dripping
spruce, brewing a silence 

peppery to taste, pouring it
over the moss. Then, 

when I asked,
the furry lips of earth 

puckered, O met
the soles of our feet, 

ferns in our hands
unfurling—

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