Drawing for The Libyan Sybil, 1511


Wild Raspberries

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Bring me the blight-marked berries and the stunted,
the insect-festered and the underripe,
bring me the wild fruit, wind-spread and untended,
in hands that cup both crop and battered hope;

and one more time I’ll offer you, in silence,
this storm-bruised fruit, this scant and rib-clutched yield,
this handful from the wild ground of my distance:
scarred and misshapen, tart-sweet, leaking red.