Cleaning out Pressed Grapes
Berkeley Winery, 2008


Barefoot, I jump up slightly to get myself onto the ledge of the silver container
where grapes are pressed into wine
I linger on that ledge, feeling its firmness beneath me
Looking up at the full moon
In the silent Berkeley night
As I help my high school friend
Make wine in his winery

My task is to clean out the two containers
from which we took out grape juice andpulp

The silver container is empty
Large enough to hide my entire body
With grape skins and juice smeared onto the silver
When I step down
I feel grapes stain my feet
Dry them with their moisture

I feel the light of the moon
On me
As I begin to work
With the pressurized hose
With the stiff brush, the handle rough in my hand
Exploding water onto the purple skins
I begin on one side
Running the water first
Seeing juice run out
Some skins dissattach
Yet the color and seeds and skins remain

I work a sponge over the area
Then the stiff brush
They loosen easily, surprisingly easily
Another wash with the hose
And one wall emerges
Glowy, clean
Free of its sticky grape skins, seeds, juice
My feet slide a bit with the skin filled water, yet I’m stable
I work on the second wall
And third
Finishing the fourth

The container is clean
Ready for the next batch
Ready to make wine
All it took was work

I work on the silver container
With clear intent — as I work on me
I pull off the smeared juice
I rinse off old skins, scrape at the seeds
To beneath create the container
that holds the glowy me.

 

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