On Reading: Four Small Bees Found Living in a Woman’s Eye
He could see in her eyes she'd been sweeping graves. Memory and duty – incense and a yarrow-stalk broom worrying away leaves and dirt. Unearthed, bees flew to her sweat, her sorrow. They knew no pollen could yield such honey – love, so smoked with grief that it was holy. Ancestral manna to feed her, and keep watch.
First published Sept 2020 in the I-70 Review