I dreamt once
of the red juice
of berries
I picked them with a girl
not the girl
a girl
we ate of them hungrily
and fully
they were in abundance
The red juice dripped
from our mouths
and our hands
and coated our bodies
It stained us
and I tried to wash
myself of the juice
but it had stained
deeply
The cold river water
could not clean it
nor the salted water
of a tear.
I returned home
in red silence
and those eyes
understood
as silent eyes
do