There is nothing wild anymore,
nothing sweet or real or free.
God gave me wild strawberries
I ate until my lips were red.
The crawdads don’t live here now.
No mounded holes, no hidden home.
The old men with their whiskey bottles
and their sticks have all gone home.
The children must be kept indoors,
their forts torn down, their fields mown short.
The authorities will provide sterility, safety,
and large strawberries without flavor.
If: wildness is danger
If: berries are not sweet
If: God is not real
Then: this place is no longer my home