HONEYBEE draft1

H O N E Y B E E

I’m thinking about honeybees

and

you watching me through my window

while you worked

with sweat at your temples

and the seams of your

tattered shirt I wanted to

mend

using metal wound string and horse hair

( an orchestra in the wind )

Can I hold

your misshapen head to my chest

as we lean into uncle and auntie’s swing bench?

I stroke your long locks

feeling like

carbonation feasting on decay.

You were born in the 1800s

you slept on feather pillows

you ate apples and pears

you

you

you poked your fingers

through the drapes around my bed

and then

static settled to an image

Dracula of my dreams

freaky sounds good to me

we ran through thick trees

and slow columns of sunlight

I pushed you down

in the poppies near the river bank

cheeks flushed and pulsing

malas are so tight around clasped hands

(wrap them around my neck!)

Take me to the chapel

the very top

with a wicker basket under your arm

and a single word on your lips “ h o n e y b e e ”