sun on the hives
The bees
don’t begin
their frenzied
circling
until the sun
hits the entrance
to the hive
My thoughts
guard bees
looking for anything
disguised as danger
I fill the bee’s water bowl
float corks so they can land
drink and fly away
My open
hand reaches to you
flashes silver like a
dagger, our hopes of
separation misplaced,
in pieces
When you open the hive
sometimes you taste the honey
sometimes, you get stung
neither of us
steady enough
to build something
together
or apart
How then do we leave
what is both working
and what is not
Savoring the last
taste of honey
on the tongue--
--JaimeGrechika
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