Thursday, August 20, 2009

Day-neutral verse

Late Summer Strawberries

Run cold water and wash them,
Trim their stiff green curls,
Slice them in bloody two,
Drown them in goat’s milk.

Close your eyes and chew them
one sweet half at a time —-
cool burrs chafe your tongue,
and then they are gone.

Open your eyes and startle —-
what were you thinking of?
That which sustains you?
Strawberries? Love?

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