apiary

i keep the swarm a secret until
you punch a hole in the wall 
& there they are. the hive, the body.
it started with a lost thumb.
i breathed onto it until it became
a queen. there, the workers came
with all their urgency. build & build.
the young like exclamation points
thrumming in their sleeves. you are furious
with me. the secret, the size of our house.
their song behind every wall. 
i don't know why i thought it could just
be a room. just one hive. just one queen.
you ask me, "what did you think
you would do with all of them?"
i admit to honey. to sugar but in my teeth
i know it was something more. i wanted
company. someone to talk to who would
listen. turn my stories into dances.
i do not want a television. i want a lover
& a new house. one without all the piles 
of nonsense & one without the flies 
& one without all these bees. i know i let
them in. i whisper to them about how nice
i hear it is in maine. maybe they could
take a road trip. maybe they could
make a new friend who is weak & lonely.
they do not catch the hint. instead, 
they grow. spill from the chimney
like smoke on a hunt for a flower's
blushing face. you weep. i tell you that
despite it all, the honey tastes so good.
i get a spoon. fill it with gold.
you shake your head. you say, "i want my
old face back." i don't know if you're
talking about mine or yours. 
i get you to eat & i take a spoonful too.
the bees applaud. you admit, "it is good."
i want to ask, "is it good enough?" but
i stay silent. let the bees' hum envelop us.