GLITTERBUG

The poets are all lying when they say love is like a spool

of gold, a spoonful of honey. There’s no fireflies dancing

in veins. All you have to offer is fields worth of red silk,

and we both know I’ve always preferred the rhythm of

moth wings. I swaddle my heart like a cocoon, stuff the

inside with bees. Train it like a guard dog. Your voice

sends the buzzing into overdrive. I send my bloodstream

out for a monthly fire drill. Have it line up, call the names,

make sure we didn’t lose another piece in the flames. You

come slowly, all pollen laced fingertips, tempt even the

most well-behaved hive.