Artists in the Honeycomb

honeycomb in the water – one second
breath is like living
must be aggression

slow it down.
slow.
it will stop.
like a mourning dove will howl and moan.

one day without her eggs
and she could call it off, breath,
eddying around in the hexagon

give her water, give her water
liminal fights in every gulp and crash
wax rolls in the water rolls off
be a honeybee. bee, buzz sweet. we all like nectar

and thrive in abundance
which signals:
plant more flowers, people. plant more trees and gardens!
give winter something else to kill

or: transition

all bees transmutate pollen and all bees need water to drink.
no bees construct hives in the river
but here we are, free.
the dove has her head under her wing and everything heaves with her.

everything lives with me.

even breath is yellow sometimes and even people bloom
have you ever swallowed a bee?
can it sting and swell your tongue, all of you taking up space in the dark and wet?
what color is your mouth?
those eggs are somewhere/nowhere a reminder
everything breathes, even rocks, in the space between electrons

which is breath, anyway. we’re made of
mostly water, which, too, is mostly air
still, we suffocate.

wasps make paper nests light as the air we breathe
how to give her the time she needs
let her into the honeycomb where we live, together

I bloom, I bloom

how many poems in a bee?

practice taking in as much as what I let out;
a bee won’t do equilibrium

give them all honey