Tonight's Poet Corner: Hiding Behind The Honey

Hiding Behind The Honey
by Belinda Roddie

Nestled where the comb was
the stickiest, I extended my hand outward
to brush the stray hairs of the nearest honeybee,
who didn't seem perturbed by my presence
at all and simply continued its wordless sermon,
the droning horn of its buzz the only sound
besides the crackling of regurgitated nectar
clinging against wax.

Mother wouldn't know I was by the hive
until she called me for dinner,
and I skipped back to the house with
honey in my eyebrows, little beads of it
glistening like glass on the loosest strands,
so when she used a comb
to yank the fructose out of my hair,
I clamped my teeth down on the plastic
and sucked away the sweetness
before she could think to stop me.