le sucre le plus doux

to feel it sweeeeeep like a flying wasp beautiful and bold hovering above my bed eyeing me thoughtfully a virtue of vibration sprinkling by gold upon my pinkened cheek promise of liberation and or exquisite pain then a downward swoop wild laughing out of almost nowhere brushing me dangerously causing a swell of squeal to

être

  is this it drumming in my sensitive throat ? this dreamy elevation pounding up my stairs buzzing like bees behind my ears eagling awake my Ursa Major ? this cliche slapping my eloquence lathing me into curling pieces …. I asked her liquid scales I begged her I made water coloured love for her