Some friends had broken up-;
i didn’t think they should,
but still… (The bees had also
flown away to the chrome woods—
maybe the workers went ahead, but how?
No one understood—) The lovers
lifted yeses then a no…
Why? (let’s not get into
a whole thing about it…) Their hours never
snagged despair; why could they
not have loved each other more?
One day the hive returned,
like a gold thought in the gray
context of an oversight…
the lovers would find others
all too soon with basic need less
passionate than the first; i went on
with my reading & the bees worked
right up to the finished dusk
as if their house would stay
near mine in a drought-
tested thicket remote in time—
[Sound Traces]
you promised our love would live
in time in a spill-tested thicket
remotely mine—
i promised our home
could stay in time in a drought
tested thicket remotely thine—
and so on…