I’ve been living on the lip,
Knocking on his door,
Whispering words out loud,
Not needing any reasons
Other than to push him
From deep inside the hive,
Drive him insane,
Make him moan so loud
Neighbors complain.

Last night his naked body
Became a honeycomb.
My tongue became a worker bee,
Licking at his cells,
Depositing sticky sugar
From polished pistol of my
Flowering rose,
Wheeling through his airs
Around North Pole,
Then to his equator,
Following the path
Cuming around finally
To the small hive
Where honey is kept,
Paying attention to his eyes,
His small cries…
Buzzing my way inside.