I heard it through the grapevine
Grapevines, I see them in my town Chicago,
grasping the tops of gangway fences,
stretching their legs and arms in wildness,
budding small, green, hard fruit for future consumption,
wine for sharing and talking,
for laughing away our sorrows,
Grapevines live where you’d not expect,
alleyways for children to reach for, to wonder at, to ask what it is, to ask how to grow it,
how to eat it,
Can I eat it?
Grapevines bring questions and talking,
and not reaching because it’s not ours,
not eating except for that one time in the summer,
hoping the neighbor wouldn’t see
and of course they know because gardeners know even as the sour reaches the tip of our tongues,
next deciding to swallow the even bitter skin,
or spit it out for the rats to catch
Grapevines like cucumber vines,
wander which way and that, no direction minus a cardinal,
or robin or sparrow to guide
Yes those vines
Oh yes those vines with their blossoms glowing brightly in the sunlight of my city
Kissed and blessed
My child too
Kiss and bless
My child too
JEO
8.16.2021
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