Endeavor to picture
each slender
young strawberry—on some
faraway bush
underneath
the equator—its wan little cheeks
still benign and anemic,
but beginning
to flush crimson
with their
latently conspicuous
abundance of seed—
suddenly—decapitated!
flash-
frozen, fast-
packed, and punted
indiscriminately
northward—along
with bag after
bagful
of its shy little sisters—
without letting
yourself get too terribly
carried away
as you shunt them—one by one
either way
down your raw throat
so readily
and into the red gummy
prison of your blank stomach.