This was the Sunday drive
on an s-shaped back road
slithering to a hot horizon
that raced towards us:
you, me, your children in the backseat

When you finally stopped
it was to steal fruit
from a sharp shrub,
hearts pounding,
feet bound, fingers stained

Red, the flavor of summer
berries and buried fear
simmered in a pot for jam.

Words ©2016, Jen Payne. Image: Raspberry, Ilya Mashkov, 1939.

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