Mutterkorn

Grace Stone Coates

You are more bitter upon my lips than ergot,
Purple corruption on the nourishing kernel;
Bitterer to me than brackish desert water,
Bitter as tears in dreams that shame Gehenna.
Because you were sweeter upon my tongue than honey,
Blander than milk in unmaturing kernels,
Stranger than swooning breath of the sun-sucked berry,
You are more bitter in my throat than death.