Blackberry Clafoutis

A recipe I downloaded
Flutters on my desktop.
I keep thinking it’s a poem
Posted there

With its luscious title:
Blackberry irresistible surely
Essence of
My north’s high summer

Its punitive guarded
Providence
When one morning
Is just imperceptibly

Cold enough to turn
The gas-burning
Pot-bellied stove on
For an hour

Before I let Anne’s chickens out
And open the barn
Which smells sweet
Of hay bales, horses

Bedding, and the berries
We picked along Blazing Tree Lane
Yesterday, arms, legs
And mouths bloodied.

We stored them in the freezer
Where they wouldn’t rot
Before we made a clafoutis,
That French pudding

Cherry-stuffed traditionally
But cherries are ripe in spring
And we are headed into winter
Geese honking south, etc. . . .

You should eat it hot
Directly from the oven,
But it will still be good
For breakfast, left over.

• About
• Also by this author

Beverley Bie Brahic

Beverley Bie Brahic is the author of four collections of poetry, including the 2012 Forward Prize finalist White Sheets. She has translated works by Charles Baudelaire, Yves Bonnefoy and Hélène Cixous. Francis Ponge: Unfinished Ode to Mud was a 2009 Popescu Prize finalist; Guillaume Apollinaire: The Little Auto won the 2012 Scott Moncrieff Prize for translation.

Also by Beverley Bie Brahic (see all)

• Jimmy - February 25, 2022
• Blackberry Clafoutis - February 25, 2022

Author: Beverley Bie Brahic

Beverley Bie Brahic is the author of four collections of poetry, including the 2012 Forward Prize finalist White Sheets. She has translated works by Charles Baudelaire, Yves Bonnefoy and Hélène Cixous. Francis Ponge: Unfinished Ode to Mud was a 2009 Popescu Prize finalist; Guillaume Apollinaire: The Little Auto won the 2012 Scott Moncrieff Prize for translation. View all posts by Beverley Bie Brahic