the taste of memory by Claire Kovac

I stand alone in the rain and watch
as blood jewels on my finger
a perfect ruby sphere

I must have pricked my finger but
strangely I can’t remember

the thought comes unbidden
that it’s because of you

last summer at the field we watched clouds drift
form and reform and I felt unmolded myself

our legs tangled together like the thickets
behind my grandmother’s house
fuzzy leaves and prickled thorns

when we were small
you would make fairy caps of raspberries
laughing as I’d adorn my fingers with them

now I bring my finger to my lips
for a moment I feel certain
it’ll taste of raspberries and memory

instead it tastes like the sea
you were always too afraid of it