The Strawberry

The seam pulses over the rich sweet mesocarp
barely holding its seed buttons together. The strawberry
waits to be torn open. Beneath the splattered blanket of night
covered with white droplets, small hands exploring the fields for fruit
stain their small hands scarlet biting into the red jewels.
The same fruit's color slightly fades beneath the market's flourence,
its shape shrinking under each shopper's exploring hands.
But soon the strawberry, becoming just a prop in a love story,
will nourish hungry mouths starving for other lips. The berry's
own skin smeared with whipped cream and dipped in fine wine
is cut into with one bite, slowly dripping onto lips and chin.


...April 2003