Peeling A Strawberry Poem by Henry Tong

Those slightly obtrusive
impeccable dots
are the static corpuscle
on crimson skin
even though
they barely move
like a thick wall
of a banana fruit.

The gardeners cautiously
erase the unpleasant dots
and leave nothing
but a bleed-red surface,
beneath which the snow-white
flesh sacrifices itself
into the salivary mouth.

The onerous process finds
its meaning through picky mouths.
The vastness brushes against
their shoulders, and separates him
from the joys and sorrows of death.