Lucy in the grapes (with diamonds)

Monday night: sitting in front

of the electronic box, enraptured

as any kid in front of any video game.

But not a game, an entertainment,

on those Monday nights when

a country knew itself, believed

itself, believed in itself, believed

the legend. And we laughed,

The genius was in the face,

the expressions, a raised eyebrow,

a focused frown, a slight tilt of the head

to indicate a feeling, a reaction,

an emotion, an entire story told

without a word uttered.

And grapes, this one was about grapes,

feet smashing them into juice and pulp,

the juice to be siphoned off into casks

and bottles. It didn’t matter how she

got herself into the vat, not really,

because she was there, in the moment,

and we stomped the black-red grapes

with her, and we laughed as she wrestled

and rolled in the grapes, drenched

in the juice, caked with the pulp, wearing

them like black-red diamonds.

Tweetspeak Poetry has a prompt this week, a celebrity prompt, and this one is about Lucille Ball. If you remember Lucy, take a look, and consider a poem.

Photograph: A grape-stomping scene from an episode of I Love Lucy.