Strawberries
Kim Malinowski
Lying on our stomachs we suck strawberries,
dabbing them in sugar, grasping them,
as plump lips bite.
Each granule of sweet,
a promise.
Forever lazy sunshine, park picknicks,
fresh mown grass.
Sticky fingers caress cheeks,
slide along collar bones.
Strawberries promise love
even with age,
with fever.
We vow forever,
both tart and sweet.