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the strawberries
what she didn't tell you

summer's first flushed
field is a cemetery
stain of awakening
fruit flesh thick
desire split seeds stem
fed from the dead
small sweet deep red
his rejection is nothing
between skin and sky
but fear, believing
berry meat bleeding
tongues taste his soul
whispers cajole
as he flees past stones
she challenges "Eat"
he warns "Don't"
should have known something
should have known something
fumbled when he refused
shifted when she refused
knowledge of reap and sow
all that hot summer
she does not stop
he cannot stop worrying
gathering but thinks
about the dead and
to claim enough to sustain
their salvation's
both, cannot see
cannot meet when
how it has to work:
how it always works:
one forages for food, the other
one is running toward, another
seeks shelter
running away
from temptation
from a delicious end

 

Believe Me

In waking dreams
I wrap my legs around
the world, enfold completely
and deeply kiss
each person I see
so they understand
I mean this: I love you.
It's about writing & working &
obviously fucking but
I need you to understand
I mean this: I love you.
Because it's about saving &
sheltering & birthing & wanting
to be in the world & of the world
& have the world
in me, like a womb within
a womb that blooms inward too
because it's about time
to stop grieving & start shedding
skins that don't fit & tears
jubilant & laughing because
it's about celebrating &
rocking & moving
forward with what I choose
to carry in my hips, in the tight
grip of my thighs around
whatever I love &
I mean this: I love you.
& if you come with me
you can come with me
always as a song in my blood
so when I sing you pass my lips
again, each note a seed, a kiss
constant, replenished, perfect
because we are & we are &
nothing separates us but molecules
of us so nothing separates us
but denial so believe me when I say
I mean this: I love you.

 

Kate Shuknecht is over Helvetica. Wants to write a book on fonts just so she can title it Something Serifed This Way Comes. Until then, she'll keep her day (and night) jobs of: poet, publisher, blogger, grocer, dog-sitter, cat-flatterer, and shower-singer.

For you curious sorts, see what's up at breadandmutter.com and broadcraftpress.com.