MISERICORDE

Silence: the body down, as expected.

A sweet burn nets the room:

incense, nightcap, decay’s sudden lift. A bee

circles your open mouth, lands on your open eye’s near-dry curve.

Dizzy, it gathers its reflection

in your irises’ dull glass

and shivers pollen onto your still eyelash.

Is this what is meant by

enter the light?: golden fur, golden dust, golden stain;

how I’d wrap you

around my shoulder,

a final possession—camouflage;

cataract, silk.

O to wear you: a gown

over which bees weave the scent of wet grass, wet

as though expecting—

You are powerless.

I shut your eyes with my hand, your mouth

with my mouth.