these are my letters
to myself.

Message to Readers

i'm no shakespeare

feeling floral

February 17, 2019



the bees dance, twirl and trip
on the breeze
they roll and rumble,
thunderstorms tugged tight into
yellow suits, black eyes
wildflowers wave and wash
against the earth
hearts slit,
shiver with guilt

they call to their lovers,
like virgins awaiting
their first kiss

how the bees fly,
holding on to the blue
sticky fingers gripping the sky
hands now tumbling
to catch the rye, the yew

stems slick and thin,
the crown of petals thick,
wildflowers smile,
naked bodies swim

the bees whisper
in that language without lips
honey spills and drizzles
in their throats, on their wrists
careful bliss

so precise,
alien anatomies mix
bodies taunt under
shell, twist
under skin

in a single second,
the moon and sun



See History
  • February 17, 2019 - 6:55am (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

1 Comment
  • a sprig of pink

    oh, what a sweet way to describe something as simple and devious as bees.

    over 1 year ago