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