the short version


A handful of bees.  Yolk-colored
pollen in your lashes, on the shoulders of
your tie-dye tank top. The sun

a bright mallet, making us blink
and tear.  Hurling oak galls, half-empty
lobes of maggots, at my braids.

Laughter like sudden car brakes,
like your favorite Def Leppard song howling
in reverse. Scraping the band-

aids from your broken toes.
Teaching me to smoke underwater, how
to write the word freakish

with my tongue. Mapping
the bruises along your ribs in the shape
of his palms, your hand over

your giggle-swollen lips: a handful
of bees in his Volvo’s dashboard.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: