There’s honey in my hair

            Between my fingers

            On my palms,

            A little on my wrists.

Close enough so we could be friends

I lean towards you to tell you this much,

            There's honey in my hair

            Between my fingers

            On my palms, even my wrists.

God help me, I only wanted a little in my tea.

 

I laughed when honey in my hair

Was a wet and childlike

            forgotten kind of smile

A smearing, rearing surprise

Shared with the other big people like me.

 

But honey in my hair

            Is drying and crusting me solid

            I’m sticking to the table and a

            White paper napkin

            Flaps with my gestures

            Inking scribbled rifts

            Back into the skin.

 

I hide the other hand

Rubbing against my thigh. 

‘Cause I was trying to say something  

 

Serious.

 

I rinse my hands in warm peppermint tea

Dissolving the sleek pinch

Skin releases skin

So my fingers play out the minted baptism into

the flames of the candles.

I’m definitely gonna say what I’m saying  

 

Now.

 

But transparent residues only slide and hide

in odder places.

 

Time breathes my soothe dry

Sweetening already painted tips

And crusting me confection again.

 

I lean towards you to tell you this much

There's honey in my hair

            Between my fingers

            On my palms, even my wrists.

God help me, I only wanted a little in my tea.

But I'm stuck to the table

My hair holds my head bowed

And aged

Tipping a thousand flies

Of the slowly festering sore.

            They buzz, buzz

Inside that inside kind of filth

So old in the trembling of their bodies

And wings beating into the pause before

They plunge

            and die

                        flowering my hair     

And marrying me

Like a new kind of amber.