Today was the day
I decided to clear out--
no real reason to keep
the junk that has began to rot.

Smelly like moss on a crumbly tree,
or the fashionable nonsmokers room
smelling like there's been quite a few
rebels striking back at a budget motel--
probably because they didn't have enough
television channels, to pacify these poor souls.

The inanimate fixtures are posed for display--
once complex industry
were personified to a fleeting idea of 'purpose',
instead smothers its surroundings
with the validity of indifference;
the forgotten hallows that
truly signify my closing hours.

Inside me now
are the cooing sounds
and the beating wings of fragile pigeons
that seek shelter from a world
trying to forget them;
beginning to call them pest
even though they are snow,
so they must hide within me
and survive with my blood orchids
that begin to bloom--
spilling out of me.

Our Strawberry Moon,
Now waxed in June,
Brings crops to bloom;
Like a balloon:
All gone too soon.

70 years before today She was in this place
sultry magic abounds
I heed Her call

Honey Moon radiates from between my legs
An angel at my gate

Succulent strawberry
Bite into me
Send me rolling sticky sweet
Teeth to lips to cheek
Rosey gold
Ready for the picking

Rest within my crown O Mother and sing me to sleep
Siren's Solstice drift through my being

Shine upon me
Adorn my halo with your seeds
Be with me
I am with myself

Nestle me in your womb as 70 years before
Sultry sweet and mystical
I adore She

Of that cold spring day when our hands froze
Clutching cones of your favorite strawberry ice cream

Of the following warm summer day when my favorite
Chocolate ice cream coated our tongues

Of that day we escaped our classes
And found ourselves held captive
By the soft cherry ice
With nuts on top

Of bubblegum sonnets, of almond praline declarations of love
Of fig and honey serenades
With soft coffee angels singing in the back
And cookie cream cherubs whispering in our ears.

Of the best first taste.

Of the worst last lick.

your kiss was as tasty
as strawberry sauce.
but was it your tongue
or just your lipgloss?

your hair smelled of wild flowers,
sickly sweet and divine.
your perfume was so rustic,
like a soft scented pine.

your eyes sparkled bright
like the overhead stars.
with you softly singing,
and me strumming guitar.

we danced until morning,
skinny dipped in the stream.
it all seemed so perfect,
could it be just a dream?

our nights that summer,
i won't soon forget
the memories we made
or the girl that i met.

strawberry flavored pancakes and milk
and her under the beige umbrella on the patio licking the red top off the maple syrup bottle

dinner never tasted so good


- Martha Grace Hsieh and Daniel J. Flore III

Waking up,
The smell of strawberries
Marries the air
And infatuates me into
An early morning's lust;
I'm in paradise.

Holding your hand,
Fingers intertwined,
As the radio plays
And we stay with the beat.

Leaning in,
This is the moment;
Strawberries flood
My tastebuds,
And then you blew a bubble to the size of your face.

Bathing in bubbles
That are scent-less,
And I'm senseless
And my hands roam
And your mind leaves this world.

A fire burns
And seven bodies
Bare witness to newborn
Affection-
And I swear a star was too.

But I'll never see that star.
That taste seems so vague.
I came in and burst your bubble-
Tastes sweet
Until the flavor faded.

So here we are,
A bubblegum kiss later,
With a layer between us.