the cherries were ripe
by Linda Golaszewski
the cherries were ripe
near a lake
big enough to be touched by tides.
Cherries bent low, full
no one else had picked
them no one knows ripeness
anymore
how red the fruit
can get when dead ready
to be picked, the kids
scattered to free the branches
from their harvest. Pie cherries
ready for their next incarnation
sour with a bitter pit
sour with a passing fancy of sweet
Tell me then, did you
have to, tell me when the children
were running through to the wind and the wild
taste of feral fruit.
knocking my heart to the ground
the wind pulled like the tide from my lungs
and I followed you around
and I followed you around
the children
the red fruit
the heavy branches
you heart gone through a thicket
of fruit of the wrong kind of ripeness
and I followed you around
til the red of the cherries stained my lips
and the brush scratched my hands
bleeding in disbelief.
Judge’s comments
The poems in the “New Poet” category were impressive and explored a wide array of themes. I enjoyed reading each and every one, especially in this category. I have a special place in my heart for new poets, because we all have to start somewhere. The second-prize poem “The Cherries Were Ripe” is a lyrical work that examines something as simple as ripe cherries and weaves sustained meaning throughout each line. It speaks to the complexities of relationships in a lovely way.
—Connie Post
Linda Golaszewski is at the beginning of re-starting her published writing career with a successful submission to the Kate Snow contest/Timberline Review. Previously she was a part of a writing and publishing collective in Springfield, Illinois. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where she teaches, sings and writes poetry and prose.