there is honey dripping
from the ceiling.
to think our walls
are full of bees,
buzzing while we sleep,
& now we're eating sweeter
cereal, washing
stickier dishes.
the lightbulbs are all broken
full of honey. amber droplets
bubble through the paint, the wiring,
buckets catch most of it.
sometimes i wonder
if we're at the center of the earth
sleeping under rivers of gold.
or it could be some sun shower.
the baby doesn't know,
neither do the neighbors,
who think we're cheap
keeping the lights off.
the evenings are dark
but the bees, they don't bother us.
the honey coming down
beats on our open palms.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
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