After the dog ate the hive,
he hurt and shat bees for a week,
but the sweet comb drew him
with its waxy buzz and dripping love.
And then the tenaciousness of a terrier,
which he was not, not even part,
but still, knowing someone fought him
for this food, drove him to speed.
Like that, chomp, and it was gone, the sweet
sting and sting and sting. Oh, honey,
oh poisonous bees, or pop bottle
shaken with cold pills, ball of fire,
everlasting sex, the hunger and the anger,
all the kids locked out of the room.
