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Jul 2019
Honey in its natural state is a preservative.

I walk into the room and I see
A honey-filled jar that sits upon a shelf, bathed in spring sunlight.
A deep golden-hued shadow cast across the room
Washing over me as I approach and
I kneel and press my palms into the cold tiled floor and

I begin to pray.


“Did you know they placed your relic upon a baker’s rack
In a kitchen just small enough to house its appliances?
They ask you to bless things that you don’t have domain over.

Little do they know that I pray to you
To become too present in my own body--
Blood rushing is something loud when you’re attuned to it--
A love letter to life and the drainage of it
And the discomfort of realizing my tongue is too big for my mouth

Praise feels like the haloed light in this room:
The smell of a cream sauce seasoned to perfection
Offerings of homemade food and drink,
Dried sunflowers,
The last bit of ink in a well-used pen with the end chewed on,
Notebooks and sketchbooks filled to the brim with coded doodles whispering ****** secrets in tongues familiar only to you, and
Annotated horror books upon the shelf

I remember the day I found your body.
I remember draining your blood into a bucket.
I remember removing your head from your neck.
With a handsaw I found in my grandfather’s shed.
He still doesn’t know it’s missing.

I bought honey from the woman who sells it
Out of her home down the street from the elementary school
And I poured it into the largest jar I could find.

I carefully pushed your hair to be perfectly curled in the way that you liked it
And your eyes are closed, I made sure of that
Because when they stared back at me,
I stared back for as long as I could trying to find some meaning in it all.


And now the light catches the bubbles
Still slowly floating up from the largest sunflower I could find
A bed for which I rested your chin upon
Before delicately pouring in the honey on that day.
I kissed your forehead before adding the last jar.

Have you ever stared down at the ground and wondered
If someone--
Anyone--
Could hear the pleas crying for help and forgiveness?

I pray now for forgiveness, sweet saint.
I pray now for forgiveness for stealing a kiss and
Placing you here and
Pressing my hands to the last thing you have on this earth.

Forgive me.”
Orion
Written by
Orion  21/Transgender Male/Houston, TX
(21/Transgender Male/Houston, TX)   
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