Yewberry

 

I planned a family excursion to the Dry Tortugas today, so I am, of course, reminded of the yewbushes that grow on either side of the steps to our front porch.

Why? Because of their poisonousness. Because I learned today that the manchineel, a poisonous tree found in Barbados (and other parts of the Caribbean) grows on the keys of the Dry Tortugas. The manchineel is supposed to have a pleasant taste, but it is also quite poisonous. Sap from anywhere on the tree causes blisters, and we used to be careful in Barbados not to step on a manchineel fruit that had fallen on the beach. We heard a story, once, of a tourist who ate one of those fruits and was surprised to learn it was a poisonous tree. My brother and I called it the death tree.

The yews outside my house are almost the same. The entirety of the yew is poisonous, except for its fleshy red arils, plump or dripping with sweet liquid. The aril is simply a fleshy covering that wraps around almost all of the seed, but it is a pleasant fruit. Keep in mind that the seed itself is poisonous. Sometimes, I eat the arils from our yewbushes, because I like them and because I like trying all kinds of fruit. I even wrote a poem, called “The Fruiterer,” that was all about eating fruit.

We are still living in winter in upstate New York. By the time our last storm ended this Saturday (St Patrick’s Day), there was about an extra foot of snow in our yard. So why do I have a picture of a yew sprig and its aril? Because I made a copy of it to serve as the illustration for a little haiga of mine.

Everything is poetry, everything is fruit, everything is poison.

ecr. l’inf.