Honey

A woman dies. They bury her. They plant
Flowers. The flowers bloom,
They’re pollinated. The bees make honey and the
Honey is sold in big jars from big crates in big
Boxes. The woman’s family buys honey.
They sweeten their tea, soothe their
Allergies. Soften their skin in rich hand
Masks.

It is my promise in life to choke on
You. I will shrink myself until I am only
Big enough for you. My mouth stuck,
My lungs filled. I make noise, like inhaling
Gravel, like breathing in dirt. I love
This and I want this. My jaw unhinged,
I die wrapped around you. I do this
While the sun rises. I do this while you
Are not looking, when I want you to think
About me. I do this because I love to
See the whites of your eyes,
The underside of your jaw. I love how my
Name has no meaning when it comes
Out of your mouth.
My buzzing, my flittering, tiny
Diazed eyes are me. Memememe.

I want to choke on you, fill up
To the seams with you. My mouth
Glues shut. Too sticky to swallow.

They bury me.
They plant flowers.
The flowers bloom.
I love you.

~~~

Sloane Frederick is a writer currently seeking solace by hiding in the deep south. With a hot love affair with the desert south west behind them it was time to live with a little broken heart. It’s better for the art, they say. They have been published in Alligator Juniper, Entropy, and others. You can only find them on the internet if you look hard enough.

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