Honey Hives
                                                 happy little bees                    buzzing
their final breath                    their                                                                          ability to feed

 

                                    domesticated                         imported
                   raised                                                          in

 

                                                                                                  disease
those hives      collapse

 

Erasure poem

Source: The Buzz: Six Reasons Not To Worry About The Bees
Henry Miller – https://www.forbes.com/sites/henrymiller/2016/08/24/the-buzz-seven-reasons-not-to-worry-about-the-bees

 

 

 

 

elusive

 

I

in this reality, the stars misaligned for another; you could have been my other one. i felt it, you felt it. this space between us–ambient & magnetizing–a peak experience. in closeness, i could feel you, your heart a murmuring. could you feel me, my trembling? my eyes still do their utmost not to linger, my smile a quivering disguise. in alternate reality, we could have been. your sun & my moon, airborne.

II

seven degrees of separation bound us to meet. synchronically, we did. synchronous, we were mirrors to ourselves. it’s what started the fire. in big city lights we took in the night, soaked in the day at riverscape. we were each other’s safety nets for our messy lives. like blood sisters, they mistook us for twins. even strangers knew about us, how close we got, how close we could get. we were against the world, not until against each other. no one saw it coming. but that’s the thing about fire starting: it can never be contained. turns from love to anger to resentment. that’s what we became: combustion burning each other to ash. where i’m now there’s ocean, stars at night i don’t know the names of, quietude. miles away, separated by border, i still think of big city lights. & you. a part of you will always ignite me. a part of me is glad i’ll never burn.

III

the time you told me, “my father left me. the other father was found hanged. my mother lost herself,” my heart gushed out; how can anyone grow up so fast, involuntarily? & when i confessed to carry wicked ghosts of lovers past in my womb, you were the first to love the whole of me. we promised to be loyals to the end. i wanted to be loyal to the end. but what you needed more was a martyr to love the wounded child in you, a mother to piece your puzzle complete. & i craved water to dampen the earth in me. i sought catharsis to rest my ghosts in peace. but my salty tears kept drying me out, feeding them all the more; i could no longer be your loyal. i’m still so sorry for killing the child in you. again.

IV

when two trees meet on muddy soil their roots entwine. beneath the earth, they love & nurture & protect. it’s how you see them reaching for the blue skies. how their cherry flowers bud then burst into the air. how they coat themselves in green. & when they become cascading hues of yellow, orange, red, collectively they know it’s time to sleep. before you, i was elusive. it’s when i met you i could feel threaded, my hands reaching for yours like interlacing lianas. feeling myself grounded, i rooted in to you even further. beneath the earth, our roots entwined reaching deeper for the core & beyond–to love, to nurture, to protect.

 

 

Nadia Gerassimenko is assistant editor at Luna Luna Magazine and proofreader at Red Raven by day, a moonchild and poet by night. Moonchild Dreams is her first chapbook. You can visit her at http://tepidautumn.net or tweet her at @tepidautumn.