To translate confection, my boytongue
nicked the hive’s bloated colony.
No script or art to believe in, just sugar
paining the pink of me. I welcomed
polygamy, the plural of sting. I arrived
by way of thirst. The strongest hurt
came from the queen. Her species
(awe and expert) were a light I asked
to swig. I was convinced she could
give me what I always wanted from a man.