Warren Falcon (04/23/52 - xxxx / Spartanburg, South Carolina, USA)

THIRD PASS


Wild strawberries,
all authority and
accidental grace,
you reveal too much,
dew wet, still sticky
to the touch.

Opening sourness
deserves a frown.
Sweetness slowly
yields surprise for
what always unites -

untended desire
gone to wildness
brought low
beneath branches,

slow embrace of
cradle boughs,

entangled legs
and light.

And shadows shall win the day.


That wild sweetness is a stolen base.

That the tongue is an untended garden.

That there is a burning soft hands can know.