a bees nest
talking where my lungs could be
i was a dancer in another life
& i talk to every stripe of myself.
the ribbons falling from branches.
the hive's language becoming one.
i want a cluster but not a chorus.
sometimes i take apart my heart
just to remember how it works.
the bicycle victim to this same practice
lays with its chain strewn.
i often fail to put back together.
laughing a swarm & apologizing
despite the fact that no one else
is even in the room. can i open
the door yet? is there anything
going on this sunday? not a wing
in sight, we learned to hover
like only late-stage balloons.
i am wearing pedals for legs.
here is how i move to the next world
& the next. i don't remember
how the nest grew only the after.
isn't that how things always go?
there is a huge looming waterfall
& then there is breathless night.
i can't remember what it was like
to not walk tightropes toward
every single doorway.
help me help me, i say to no one
but the bees. they are gentle.
all of them say, we are here.
line the walls like inverted stars.
where is the honey i was told
was coming? i am missing pieces
from my own frantic openings.
the screw driver bites
a portal. i cover my eyes
& spit out abdomens. sixteen.
the bees have no genders
or at least none that they
are willing to tell me. i learn
to breathe over & over like a windmill.