the furthest away

grandpa picked them
and presented them to grandma
who gave them to little cousin
to wash then handed them to
uncle to serve to father and
daughter and boyfriend arrived
from across the planet only
for this blackberry dessert
and maybe it was cousin’s
tiny hands but the berries
are riddled with ants and
grandpa doesn’t seem to
notice grandma uncle cousin
father don’t seem to notice
daughter doesn’t seem to notice
but boyfriend does and he
the furthest away from all
of this doesn’t know what
to say or what language to
say it in so he crunches them
down and later that night he
tells daughter and father who
howl and avoid admitting
they would have done the
same though later they
stay up much of the night
agitated by some invisible
thing that determinedly
tickles its way down their
throats.

from the spring 2006 issue of iamb: sfu's creative writing journal. more of my poems from iamb here.