Jennifer Angelina Petro
Deep in the drapery of the day lily
A dead bee lies curled in a pool of nectar.
Why did it die in such a sapid sacristy
Enshrined in golden silk?
Perhaps it will be the same for us
As we amble down the tunneled curtains of our lives,
Past the honeyed stalks of desire,
Searching for a numinous center?
Will our pouches grow heavy with the precious dust we collect?
Will we too begin stumbling through the drooping folds
As the sides of the amphitheater start to close?
Will we be so dazzled and drunk by the prospects of more
That we don’t notice we are slipping away from ourselves,
Drowning in sweetness, unable to turn back?