Monday, March 19, 2012

The Apiarist.


there is
a storm of bees
swarming, forming
around her head
on days like this morning
people passing
pretending
they can not see
any bees, can not see
the honey
dripping from her
eyes
knees
thighs
there is no smoke, today

one young man
nears her
does not wear
a beekeeper suit
but still, leans in
and licks the honey
off her swollen chin
and licks the honey
off his velvet lips
i think, maybe,
he knows
today, she doesn't like honey
i think, maybe,
he knows
she doesn't like to be
a beekeeper
always.

she wonders
if he exists
to prove the bees
don't have to.

3 comments:

Melee said...

This is beautiful and sad, with absolutely stunning imagery. I love your writing, dear girl. xx

haze said...

It makes me sad.

Tuesdai Noelle said...

I like the simplicity of meaning...

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