Poeming Bergamot

while we way down to the city
there were bergamot trees
which is excludable for hillbilly farmers
never vended before them in the lycian soils
diasporal fruit within citrus
she looked up for a stall near by the road
for a bag of bergamots
preserve them
winterising her breed
what a tune for life
sweet thing
unconsumable
full of grace
there is not, yesterdays
this is what i feel like nowadays
“yours is no disgrace”