There is something noble
about how you pick blueberries.
You cup your slender fingers like
a bowl and place them under
the berries. Your other hand
nimbly caresses each perfect
blue crowned roundness
and then, a calculated pinch.
Your forefinger and thumb
gently affirm their substantial
juiciness. When plucked
the prized plumpness leaves
behind the steadfast shape
of a ghostly absence adjacent
to the other berries. Those
other berries are unpickable.
They will be destroyed.
