The bees creep along the doorframe,
golden-lacquered wings brushing the corners
of chipped, white paint.
The gentle rasp of their wings,
tucked tight against their abdomens,
against the rose petals.
The sky swirls with heat,
drunk on its heaviness
and the bees weave spirals
They are dizzy on woodsmoke
and drowsy on forgetting
why they were ever made.
air bubbles leading to
myocardial infarctions
and cholesterol clots.
The hive undulates
in the buzzing of thousands
of synchronized wings
A wasp lands on the bride’s hand,
climbing the mountain
that her green veins form.
Is too tantalizing and
the stinger pierces;
the flesh bubbles and swells.
Captured in a mason jar,
bonking stupidly into the glass
like everything translucent is a way out
Crystals of sugar have crumbled into
forgotten places and decayed
in the way that bad memories don’t.
Engorged on chocolate liquor,
pressed into heart-shaped
candies; obvious devotion.
between the champagne and the sickly frosting
of a wedding cake,
cheap as the pasted smiles.
Force-fed all this sweetness,
cavities forming in their teeth
and in the pockets of their hearts,
The blood sugar roils
to a boil in the girl’s cheeks,
flushed bright rose-pink.
The perfect fourth
shone bright in the brass
trumpet’s fanfare.
She smiles and the stretch
of skin around the corners
of her rouge-painted lips
The flower girl chases after
a bee with pudgy hands
And she traps it with glee.