Heart Berries: A Memoir

by Terese Marie Mailhot

The thing about women from the river is that our currents are endless.

Despair isn’t a conduit for love.

I learned how to make a honey reduction of the ugly sentences.

putting my fingers in the jacket pockets until the pockets couldn’t contain my incessant want.

I wanted to know what I looked like to you. A sin committed and a prayer answered, you said.

You ruined me with touch. It was a different exploitation.

I learned that any power asks you to dedicate your life to its expansion.