The Reddest Berry Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The reddest berry is never seen—eaten by blind
Lips before the average means produce it—
The deepest love enjoyed by the pests at midnight—
Blooming for awhile
Like the incest of a cannibalistic mother—
Ripened pestilence above and beneath what
The middle-class can enjoy,
But blooming in riots while the popular news is not
Around—
Faithful nudity in the sand dunes of a blue boy’s
Wet dream—
A showgirl’s feathers making a cerulean crèche
For what he paid her to do—
Blooming habitual in the playgrounds of foul weather
The city officials would have destroyed at the
First rumor—
The rapture of a thousand criminals—migratory as
The jet streams across the pearlescent avenues
That cannot be controlled by the societies of
Men.