I want to go back now, through the buzzing darkness.

I want to go into that humming hive awake,

wearing the net curtain you called my veil.

I want to walk down childhood’s garden

as that girl who married her mother,

through the marguerite bed

to that nest, where my bee-queen lies

deep in her brood chamber.

I want to see the honeycomb of your mind.

I want to look into your compound eyes

where I’m reflected as an angry swarm.

I want to be that daughter whose mother has stung her

because she’s a rival,

who’s still pumping venom into her.

I want to be that childless worker

who dared to sting back, shreds

of my torn abdomen hanging off you

as I leave my stinger behind.

I have cleaned the window of my self until I gleam.

I want you to see how radiant I am

on this, my wedding day.

With all the love I now know,

I want to brush the halo of your hair

that’s grown into a comet

and mend the delicate rays of your wings.

I’ll place royal jelly in your coffin for your last flight

and close the moonlit petals of your face.