ABSTRACT
I am your last lover, one and only flower and hive. I am the one who carries the bowl inside of me for your honey so sweet it makes me stumble. You are my graft of twig and stone; a hole cut in my throat awaits your seed for singing. I am your naked queen, you wander my garden like a stream of water. Lick all my land’s end, make me clean. You keeper of my yard, tiller of my garden, I say: sweep my leaves. Rake all my dead and fallen, gather me in your arms. Burn me in your room tonight.
