Locusta’s Song
Strychnos manikos
my beautiful nightshade
named for the unturning fate
the inflexible Atropos
who chooses the
manner of our deaths
in your dark fruit
even in your green leaves
you bear hallucinations
delirium and death
they tell me that your
berries are sweet
but filled with tropane alkaloids
unpredictable
and not swift enough
in the days
of the Renaissance
the women of Italy
distilled your poisonous berries
into a juice
that could be dropped
onto the pupil of the eye
to simulate arousal
like the TikTok
videos of today
humans are always
full of tricks
Cleopatra carried you
in her makeup bag
even the bees
make honey from the flower
of Belladonna
and that nectar
can also poison you
so beware of the hedgerows
where it is found
this relic of cultivation
spreading its seed
from the cherry-like fruit
where the birds gather.
