Pollen Shuts My Eyes Tight 

poetry by Andrew S. Nicholson
visuals by Jia Qian

 

Last night, she kissed
the back of my knees.
Quick teeth,
her sting still sings.
Homed here, last night—
she transcontinents, today.
She is on a plane, off, away.

 

Who balmed?
Who spun the nectar
in my mouth,
blew rolled gold
between my lips, the shower
rainfalling through my hair?

 

I had meant to say missing,
but the phonemes enzymed
into honey.
I try saying wander.
Ten-thousand bees buzz,
and the hive towers.

 

 

 

NEXT