the bees stay up with me;
build faces in the nightlights
and dissolve our blood into honey--

the first time i was stung by 
a bee 
we made a covenant--

i was seven & the stinger dug
into the arch of my foot--
i told my mother i was going
to die there--
felt the sweet caramelization
of my veins--
the bees laughed
my mother hummed
& the colony came home with us--

the workers trained their 
mouths to pull honey
from plastic daisies & larkspurs
piled on my head as a crown--
mistook me for their queen--
built a hive into the ceiling
of my bedroom--

no one else seemed to notice
the bees or
the statues they made of
me out of honey grids--
when my mother turned out
the light they started 
their game of faces--
distortion of the shadows
off my nightlight--
the bees haunted my room
with the scuffled
beard of my dead grandfather--
articulated their bodies
into the grotesque
& skeletal--
i grew afraid of bees--

on the 3rd night
of possession i asked
them what they were doing
& they told me they 
were being human-- making
a body so that they could
walk with me in day light--
how long they had wanted
a body to hail-- to
love-- to sting & die
as martyrs for--
don't we all want a god

i only wanted to walk barefoot

as time has passed my blood
gets thicker by a moon--
& no one still sees the bees
whose hive murmurs in a calliope
of throat & fan blades 
through the night-- i count
the beats of their
parchment wing & my legs
grow lanky-- branch-black--
my eyes a kaleidoscope--
they dress me as their 
insectual goddess--
burn my wrists open
like crème brûlée--
drink nectar from
each open palm-- this body
was always a hydrangea bush
just like my mother--

i stay up with them through
the night-- feed--
dissolve my blood--
this honey in boiled mugs of
water-- hang the tea bags
from my ear rings--
your chamomile-- christened
queen of hibiscus--

stab my through the arch
of my foot again--
i'll be your queen
i'll be your queen--
your face blurred in a nightlight--
your honey & your blood

we don't sleep--
we sing.