Blueberry

They say there is no blue food.
Is the blueberry not blue?
It is navy, yes. And navy
is a kind of blue. True, inside
the berry is green
like the churning surf,
green as the newest leaf.
And at its base, a puckered
crown, a navel, a monument
to the fallen flower.
At the crown where a stem
once grew, there’s a firm
and plucky mark, brave scar
proudly won, badge
of independence, of readiness
to face the world alone,
a will to be eaten.

*

Tamara Madison is the author of the chapbook “The Belly Remembers”, and two full-length volumes of poetry, “Wild Domestic” and “Moraine”, all published by Pearl Editions. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, the Worcester Review, A Year of Being Here, Nerve Cowboy, the Writer’s Almanac and many other publications. A swimmer, dog lover and native of the southern California desert, she has recently retired from teaching English and French in a Los Angeles high school. Read more about her at tamaramadisonpoetry.com.