Hunting the Honey Bee

Words and Photo Copyright Debbie Berk 2017


Lost in love
and the brightly
colored darkness
of it all
bare and barely
of the danger
I surrender
my softly bruised
flesh to the
brutally of an
intoxicating touch
sweet as death
and my echoed breath
caught in the swelling
of a passing wind worn
like the scar of the
heart’s deepest storms
that stings like the kiss
of a thousand rogue bees
cold upon the ghost
of a fevered,

*This tree is in my front yard. And no,
I have no intentions of disturbing the bees.

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