Poetry

Honey, you’re a real thing

This isn't the body you're looking for
held fast like candles in glue
but it's been this close for the best part of a while now,
drinking more and speaking more and staying out longer than you.

Like bees around a glass bottle
saving for keeps the harvests we make mean
taking first the flowers then the feelings
twice in quick succession, and never again.

So when the curtain falls on the final sentiment you're sticking with
you ought to keep the jars for later;
licking a stamp over and over won't do double-anything,
the hands you paint with, they're not worth the paper.

Lucy Holt