Bitter Cherry

I left them while they slept
followed melting snow to the source
of all those muddy southern rivers.
Every day was spring: wild strawberries
on sparkling banks, gritty and sweet.
On untrodden paths I awoke
slow worms and snakes, crushed
peppery scent from bittercress.
I escaped the years of: ‘get me this, that’
left them grunting, asleep
left them cupboards filled
with food they’ll never eat:
powdered cress, bitter syrups,
strawberry grits. I never missed
their: ‘not this, that’ I filled
my head with a lack of regret
but now I’m here I wish
you’d followed me, not with tales
of how they cursed, not to bring
me food in jars just to sit
and eat the black bread
I left on the fire overnight
and laugh at me, laugh at the bread.
I want you here, on your own. .