Masticated Berries, No, a poem by S Francis

Macerated berries
In a bag of their own juices
Still edible and sweet
Add a little wine
Make some sangria
For brunch.

Rashers and bangers and eggs,
Grilled toms and soda bread
Black and white puddings
Cosmopolite pollinates
With sangria
For brunch.

Sometimes poets
Need dictionaries.
We would share
Macerated berries
Not masticated, though
The word sounds good.

In reality, its time
I masticated life
To savor its rich flavor.
A macerated life
Does not lend itself
To a shared brunch.

So I’ll separate berries
And life, but eat them up
Both, just the same.
Let their juices
Drip through my fingers
To intoxicate the day.

(C) Stephen Fuller, 2019