POETRY
Feature Poet: Carlie Daley Mulberry Trees Mulberries are rotting on their branches
clotting blood along bark skeins
we used to gorge on them
bellies full of cloying sweetness
plucking ripe ones with fingers
crushing rotten ones with toes
slipping skins off down by the river
washing bloodied mouths clean before dinner
Some year we grew weary of the berries
slits of flesh and simmering skin
more compelling than childish games
As if beyond the flesh was a portal to a kind of heaven
afterwards, guilt curdling in our guts like rotten cream
Pop said women looked cheap drinking beer
So, I got high instead
mother glaring between forkfuls of lasagne
granny only had 3 party dresses
& a plastic virgin mary
with a neon heart
plastered above her bed
make-up case at death
containing life’s ashes
06 | SPRING 2021 northerly
crumbs of eyeshadows and lipsticks
decades old and never worn
