the first betrayal
your honey in my milk, I knew you intimately
your dance in my daddy’s garden,
your obsession with the sexual organ’s of plants
I knew the names of you--
honey, killer, queen, drone, balm to my lonely seventh year.
your bulging nest in the plantains my father planted to remind my my mama of home
stunning in your segments of sunshine and night.
I loved you, specific thing not ruled by Bible or belt, first friend.
entire afternoons I spent saving you from the swimming pool,
your wings tiny engines of miraculous glass, I imagined
your gratitude was endless, I imagined myself your saviour,
if I couldn’t be your queen at least I could be your servant.
I don’t what it was I did to cause you
to come at me with such rage from the can of sweet
grape soda I was drinking, you sought the softest
part of me, you gave yourself death at the back of my knee
your poison abdominal sac attached and pulsing, my
baby heart’s first sting, loving something more than anything
is no way to keep it sacred and alive.
The challenge was: For today's prompt, I want you to write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc
This is a poem I've wanted to write for a long time but just never did. Mind you, this is a first draft just to get something up on the website for Poem a Day. I remember how upset I was, I cried for hours. I was such a sensitive child, I really did love the bees and I felt completely betrayed. I haven't been able to drink grape soda since.