Huan He
Planting Strawberries
For Bill and Frank
Treat me like a princess:
dove-handled cheeks bitten with dirt,
planting strawberries like invisible dolls
in a slant-roofed house, wind-tousled hair
that lay there, lumpy, like a painted nude
man bathing in the garden sun. Patting
down each gaped-earth mound, jettisoned
from open air. Esophageal. The bloom is a
tender leaf-song. Breathe in, out, in, in.
The sky, hazel-eyed and soft-rugged.
In time, strawberries will be fruited,
Emboweled by a faith in not death.
Like a jewel-crusted bangle, reaching
to kiss the ground. Treasure-bound.
X-marked. Plot-pointed.
Despite the lip-sealed cry.
Huan He reads “Planting Strawberries”
Huan He is the author of Sandman (Diode Editions, 2022), which was a finalist for the Jean Pedrick Chapbook Prize. His poems can be found in Poetry, Sewanee Review, A Public Space, Beloit Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. He is an Assistant Professor of English at Vanderbilt University, where he researches and teaches on Asian American literature and digital media.