Sex for Tina

Poems by Brett Thibault

The opposite of blackberry
is not bitter almond,
the dry meat of sherry,
or the touchy brine
of an undercarriage
bright hot and starched white.

A smile springs a curled why
like a nodding cane, blackberry
flush, dark juice ready-running, carried
on salt whips, the pith colored almond.
The simile coils below the bright
metaphor, swimming in brine; sharing.

Cassis lobes hang serried,
so dark, the day tips white,
her heat a bribe,
a reward for eating blackberries,
and finding almonds
in the locomotive undercarriage.

Swimming together, I carry
light, the color of sherry
on my back, like muling almonds,
packed like feathers, cool cream white
against the grain of saddle, blackberry,
the color deepened by our brine.

The room dilates, scintilla bright.
she rides the undercarriage,
the locomotive squashing blackberries
smearing light, the serried
clusters purpling the white
sheets; my bag of almonds.

Scattered sunwise: the bag of almonds,
the violet liquor mixed with brine,
the nodding cane of curling why,
the quickly quiet undercarriage,
the metaphor, swimming; sharing the last of the blackberries.

The opposite of blackberry is cancer, not brine,
Constellations of fallen almonds carried,
Turning blood to sherry, drinking her whites.