Poem by Anna Yin

Raspberries

On our bed
​we lie like flatfish.

Outside, stars grow older.

The moon, a white cocoon,
casts its image on the river.
In sparse shadows
a willow dangles.

Along the thorn fences
raspberries bleed.

​They remember
once being the fire
drawing the moth
flapping its wings
​to flames of love.

Anna Yin was Mississauga’s Inaugural Poet Laureate (2015-2017) and has authored five collections of poetry and “Mirrors and Windows” (Guernica Editions) in 2021. Her poems/translations have appeared at ARC Poetry, New York Times, China Daily, CBC Radio, World Journal etc. Anna won several poetry awards and also teaches Poetry Alive. Her website: annapoetry.com

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