(i) There's a priceto pay fora bee's nectar, the sharp spear of tastepenetratingtongue and throatwith a thousand needles
of sweetnessweaving showersof jumping salivaas you reeloff, a punched-out guest, at the mouthof a bee hive,
threaded labyrinthsof gold-clothedbees swarming offto seek shelter, their mouthsfull of a sting stillsinking slowlylike a hypodermic needleinto your burning fleshin the smokeand ashes of a screamdrownedand choked by the buzzesof goldenrod insectsfloating in glass jacketsand bright shirtsover a preysipping the piercingprice of nectaron a tongue too shreddedto land a savoring nerveon the juiceof a sweet buzzing stingstill rolling overdark and red tinderover the roaring coalsof a sipping hearth.(ii) How long doesthe hoopoe-mouthedarrow of a sting last, when the birdflaps its wingsat your sinking woundin a brushof breeze and windsinking downyour throat, as you gulpdown nectar, the swift river swervinginto that inner bowlfiltering off all cloudsof pain, as you lick offmore crab-gripping honeyfrom the fireof a beehivewaving the glowand stormof a honey harvester'srumbling coals, the river of sweetnessdrowning you, cleaving offyour arm's wings, as you canno longer swim offa tide of sweetnessburning youinto the ashes of your tongue, a sky's reddening duskfull of blood.
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7/23/2021 11:52:27 PM # 126.96.36.1993