bee bones

i made a chandelier of stingers
in the graveyard of sweet 
& "i'm sorry." the hum 
of an ancient candle.
i insert a wick in my tongue
& beg for the fire. there was
a pair of earring made of bees
& i wore them into the sacristy 
where a priest made a pill bug of me.
crosses that buckle into xs.
here is where we will dig until
we find the underground kingdom
of gold. when i say "gold"
i mean tents. you taught me
how to peel the sun. 
thumb & thumb & teeth.
i taught myself that gods are
the thread at the end 
of the needle. what is pulled
in & out of the land. 
a necklace of bees. a graveyard
of bees. honeycombs dripping
with gold. my father's gold tooth.
the chandelier swinging.
a wing made of dead wings. papery 
to the touch. everything i love
could be blown apart by 
a strong wind. i feel my bones 
leaving my skin & tumbling
across the corn fields.
nothing has grown yet. 
we still have chances to run.
then, look for ticks 
in each other's hair. a fatted jewel
at the base of my neck.
for divinity, i learned to drink
only as much blood as i need.
this is what i let the bugs do.
fall off as gem stones.
if i could just be the river 
i could give as much 
as i want to. in our house 
we speak insect at this time of night.
join the summer chorus. 
every breath goes too fast. i hold mine. 
when i was small i used to think doing so 
would make time go still. 
sitting with the bees & holding the air
as long as i can. my lungs like two drums.
the bees say,"to drink is to release."
i exahle & say, "show me where 
you keep the candles."
i am wearing my altar boy robes. 

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