Blueberry Stains


You told me once

that your momma had a dream

of her daddy eating

berries

in childish abandon

after the cancer had

taken him home.

We were laughing

the other night, after

our boy had gone

to bed – about how

he stuffs the blueberries

into his mouth

by the twos and threes.

“Reminds me of

mom’s dream,

and makes me smile”

you said.

Sweet

how dreams

can drift

into memories,

the stain of eaten

fruit, on the chin of

a baby,

a remnant

of something else.

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