when rasp-
berries dangle,
bloated, in the brambles,
I run, barefoot, through dry grasses,
climb the

branches
to the treehouse.
T-shirt rips, legs scratch, bleed,
but not before handfuls of red-
berry

summer
meet my lips. Be-
low, the neighbor’s dog yowls,
then stops. My mama calls ‘darling’
again.

Night falls.
A firefly
opens its wings, ascends,
one dot of light flashes against
black sky.