My thoughts, they’re
nestled between carapace and wax
in the spaces between the dancing
hymnals of a worker, telling her sisters
where the sweetest nectar can be found.

My head, it's
hollowed out; don’t you see how the larvae
fall from my ears? See how the worms
drip from my nose like snot? Can you see how
teardrops of raw honey roll down my cheeks?

The freezing lion winter slinks forward,
lays a heavy paw on my chest.
One that pushes the drones away and leaves
my skull an empty hive with scattered thoughts
slowly sponging out to fill the empty spaces.

And somewhere,
nestled between honeycomb and four wooden walls
I find myself growing into the hive;
making ready to share the honey the bees made,
wrapped in my thoughts and bone, from the nectar of
my mind.