In Praise of Mulberries
When I was young, they told me
the bread became a man.
It was a good trick, they called it a big word,
and the thin bread melted on my tongue.
Today from a bush, it’s mulberries I receive
I pluck them, but it is the plant
that gives the sweetness
I remember from my childhood.
Eager for my mouth, the berries
pop easy from their stems.
When I chew, their juice
saturates my throat.
And when I swallow,
transubstantiation begins.
The mulberries, sacred as a host,
turn, presto, into me.
©Susa Silvermarie 2025
A nice take on transubstantiatin, Susa!