In my summer breath
I hear the tick-tack
of train tracks and become
acutely aware of
my soft pink lungs
and the thrumming
of hungry young bees
living in my chest.
I feel the orange origami
folds of my paper-thin
eyelids as the nectar sun
holds them softly closed.
But when my skin and bones
turn to stones and soil,
I will feel the small gold bodies
flying from my lips.
They will lust over orchids
and pinks and peonies
that open like fists
releasing birds.
I will be a feast
for the forest bursting
in my limbs and hips
and skull. And the bees
will remain as plants go to seed
and the mountains to trees.
Bugonia (βουγονία): the generating of bees from the putrid carcasses of cattle
Lillian Hochwender is a gender-chaotic poet, artist, and nonfiction writer. They have been previously published by the likes of Firewords Quarterly, Doll Hospital, and The Oxonian Review, and have a forthcoming flash essay in the Keats-Shelley Journal. After completing a degree in literature and literary theory at William Jewell College and the University of Oxford, their health has become a full-time priority. Their interests (creative and academic) include 19th century literature, theatre, and the mythologies surrounding death and embodiment.