Certainly Love, Certainly Salt

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What would you like

To read about

More—emotions,

Wisdom, the moon,

Motherhood, loss,

Injustice, trees,

Or none of these?

What comforts you?

What’s truffle-like,

What’s a tasty,

Wafer-thin mint?

What’s poetry

When you think of it,

When you think that word

And what lurks in it?

The Honey and the Venom Are the System

Blaming a life for being

Unlike its art’s a bit like

Blaming a bee for being

Unlike its honey. Minus

The honey, complications

Are all that’s left of the bees--

At least for you consumers

Of that sweetness—buzzing, stings,

Frequently unpleasant things.

But never forgive bees’ lives

For offering you honey.

Bees don’t offer anything.

Bees pollinate the flowers

Of the world, a mutual

System of exploitation,

And the honey’s not for you—

It’s just good, so you take it.

What steals bee’s honey shapes them

As bees shape pollination.

Pollen and honey are good,

So their sources defend them.

The flowers trick with nectar,

The bees come armed with weapons,

And you come take what you can.