Early autumn grapes

They say, if your life

is too bitter then you crave sugar.

And I do remember the acerbity on my tongue

when my father told his diagnose: bladder cancer.

It was like someone filled my mouth with pile of old, rusty

coins and I couldn’t breathe, just in awe, with crucified

jaw I stared at the telephone.

 

My father soon got better,

yet my body had its own trouble digesting truth:

leaking gut poured all the bitterness of previous months’ uncertainty.

I began to grow sugars, tiny special sugars, cleverly hidden in the pores

of the synovial lakes and joint meanders.

 

These tiny special sugars, grow and mature

with each season, unharvested,

developing tear membranes,

disguised purple knots in my throat.

 

Involuntarily nerve-pulsating dreams remind me

how clumsy beginner I was.

Now, with years my skills improved:

I’ve learned with one hand to

keep my stomach intact,

with other to lift my neck

just enough to catch early autumn grapes

in my father’s vineyard,

to erase the bitterness from my head.

Maja S. Todorovic


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19 Comments

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  1. Thank you, Maja, for the bright and bitter and sweet piece of life you choose to call poetry. Such a delight hidden behind the skin of an unpeeled grape. I still peel those I put in salads for a love and myself as well. Worth the trouble and this is worth much more than mere read.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Wow I love how you wrote a master piece about some parts of life that really suck! You’re truly talented and very inspirational ! Maybe you can take a look at my new blog I started recently and I’d be happy to exchange likes on posts we actually like of eachothers and a follow

    Liked by 1 person

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