Original:

Taylor Almeida

Poem #4

30 September 2013

Blueberries and water.

It was all I remember seeing

When we drank from beer bottles

That were sour in my mouth

Giraffes and dogs

Swimming by as if

Animals did that all the time

And your laugh

Because you saw them too

I wanted to eat you like those blueberries

Or drink you like alcohol

But you weren’t either

You were never-ending

And I wanted to hold on.

Summer lasted for several years

When you were with me

On that lake

Drunk and wondering if I could

Memorize you over the night

But I soon learned blueberries

Hurt your mouth

And I really hate the ocean.

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Revision:

(This was my shackle poem. I hated it, honestly. I felt so refined. This was what I was really trying to say.)

Taylor Almeida

Poem #4

5 November 2013

Water and Blueberries

There were blueberries littered at our feet
as our toes dipped into the cool water,

fingers wrapped around colder beer bottles

filled with ale that sat bitter in my mouth.

Jungle animals swam by in front of us as if

they did that all the time, and your laugh
damn, your laugh
because you saw them swimming too

I wanted to swallow you like the fruit littered around us

or drink you like booze we had stolen
because I thought it’d mean I would get to keep you forever.
You were never-ending.

Summer lasted for years when you were with me

on that lake, laughing and blubbering drunk,

just you and just me,

wondering if I could memorize you overnight

I learned you were not some test I could ace,
or another girl that I could hold in my palm

but you were the one that had me.
You said you despised blueberries
and I told you I really loved the water.