William M. Peaster

Posted on May 25, 2022Read on Mirror.xyz

Berry Thicket

In the sunless labyrinth of the berry thicket, 10,000 thorns did kiss my flesh. I became stuck in their kisses,  stuck in their hands, never to be released  from their fingers again.

I became an old man in that sunlessness; I forgot my fingers, my feet, the eyes of my face,  the road by which I had once arrived and the berries for which I had once came. 

I am now only a heaving chest suspended in kisses, listening to the birds  who sing from beyond the thicket, breathing  like gods from soft throats, until one day 

they, too, fall silent— they, too.