Second Lament for Bumblebee

I still think about you often

On god-clouds reflected

In shattered shards of glass

Now days stick to the jam jar

My fingers tap along the rim

To a rhythm I can’t hear

But taste in the sickly sweet

That lingers on my lips

A spider moved in—

Though we have not met

I follow traces of life

Through the hallways

Buzzing with flies who watch

As I stumble over memories

Forgotten on the floor

I had that dream again

The one where my skin is flaking

And lichen covers everything

Blooming on the small

Of my chest—that ends with

Every morning tasting

Like apple seeds

Dropped and planted

In the walls of my intestinal lining

Burrowing into the raw

Of my insides

Until my scalp is covered

In soil and budding

With crisp red bulbs

Even with apple-eyes

The dull hum is unbearable

Of a thousand flying onlookers

So they watch me undress

And I witness a drowning

In a jar of golden sap

I purchase cut flowers

For the vase at my bedside

To fantasize of botanical dreams

Where my arms become pistils

And we all drink gallons

Of milky rice-water

Where we make love to the wind

And dance with arboreal souls.