from Michelle Zacks

The Revolution of a Curse is Desire
for L.B.

See this plum tree ripe with fruit:
full, purple globes,
handfuls of juice and pith
ready for hands and mouths
to handle and mouth.

This plum tree
has grown here long,
has stood long time
in this field overgrown with tall grass.
Plums fall to the ground.
Birds pick at them.
Rats eat them.
Worms take the rest.
From the big, stony seeds:
new little plum trees.

I am asking you to leave your fish
and your men drinking rum.
I am asking you to come to this place.
I am asking you to taste the plums of this tree.