Do you know how much honey remains in the hive?
The wind teaches the body to tuck in its corners like sheets in a hotel.
Neon signs lie— in those furtive cells, not all things revive.
Do you know how much honey remains in the hive?
Open a jar and consume its contents; but leave me a sweet to archive.
Did you love that house, all honeycombed; its molecules and golden bell?
Do you know how much honey remains in the hive?
The wind teaches the body to tuck in its corners like sheets in a hotel.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Triolet: Epistemology of the Bees
- Restless
- Appropriate
- Inhabit
- Fine Print
- Give thanks for the weight
- Lengthen
- Libretto
- Smoke
- What’s Written is Not Always What’s Heard
- Tendril
- The days, sharp-finned, they plane
- Selling the Family Home
- Elegy, with lines from e.e. cummings
- Letter to Audrey Hepburn
- Disintegrate
- Stage Directions
- Monsoon
- Dear spurred and caruncled one in the grass,
- Dear one, anxious again about arrival—
- Epistle of the bird
- Prayer for Wings
- Evidence
- Small birds fly past,
- Why it’s OK to live a little
- Instruct, recall
- Winter Song
- Wintering