Strawberry Heart

By Indiana-Belle Rubin-Tasic

Why must I have a strawberry heart?

One that surges and shrinks,

On a whim, becomes the wispy tufts of a dandelion that God gently blows, 

Sticking my love to the sleeves of those in its path. 

Sometimes, sensations swell so much they rattle my ribs, 

Flashing and flaring and bouncing ‘til they bruise. 

Whenever this happens, and I start to spoil,

I am told to scrunch my eyes shut, real tight,

So that soon enough, when I reopen them, the world will turn bright. 

Today I lay in the grass with a fuzzy malaise,

Pollen like powdered sugar tickles my lashes 

And the world drips in sweetness, 

But my strawberry heart shivers and sighs. 

So I hide behind folds of wrinkled eyelids

Until haloed vignettes drift across the sky 

Like steam rising up from the summer bitumen: 

I see pub days, with friends framed in a golden haze that turns them into fallen angels, 

I don’t recall the half-drunk chatter but I remember it was nice. 

I feel birds eating from my palms, the same ones I use to accept flowers from old ladies,

I trace fingers over my best friends handwriting scrawled in my favourite book, 

I hear my grandmother recite poetry in her native tongue. 

I roll onto my belly to watch the ants in their ceremonial choreography, 

And am gripped by a gratitude so intense it makes me blush, 

I am so young, yet I’ve lived so big, so soon,

I have loved so many of earth’s creatures and 

taken more than my fair share of moments that matter.

The afternoon turns to marmalade and is washed away by a sunshower, 

I laugh, and am glad for my strawberry heart.