I Can’t Help if I Burn
i can’t help if i burn and a minute after
i freeze
it’s in my constitution.
half my blood weeps
like range honey—
warm gyre of wildflower humor
the other half teems fierce
like a brackish melting of river mouth
and water from seas—
lending my nature some salinity
sometimes
I watch bees dance drunk in the afternoon
draining bloom after bloom
i think of them when i breathe,
fill the walls of my veins again
with two spirits diverged
blush of violet, flood of rose
you wonder how i can feed
on the pap of a swollen moon,
together with rations of a rising sun
i wonder if i nourish you
when i bleed