‘strawberry,’ by sesshu foster

when we had hot water in our veins I was kissing her nose that was also running it tasted of salty strawberries her dog was barking above noises we were making I was telling it to shut up it was vibrating like a strawberry I was nibbling from lips or fingertips of somebody who had crossed a desert to walk up my street and deliver it whose seagulls banked and soared in a guttering breeze sands flapping in the gusts of crows when we had sugar and salt on our skin chewing leafy parts licking lemony fresh tendrils when we both had blisters you could peel and reveal whitish red flesh like strawberries sleeping like any old person in daylight



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