I Am Carried Away To A Honey Garden Poem by Mark Heathcote

In this labyrinth, I'd be gladly lost:
Her composition steals my soul.
Whole-again I dance beside her in permafrost
plays my heart inside-out till I am whole.
Her music a dancing humming bee
it-hypnotizes me to wait for her sting
she wears gold splayed peacock earrings sultrier
then the sun plucking on her mandolin.
Naked to her muse, her song is buttermilk
I am carried away to a honey garden;
where her ladle did pour on me to drink.
I am consumed bathed without pardon.
I am drunk I am slowly, amnestied
that is how I know I've been stupefied.