Blue Honeycomb

I draw the bees under my cloak
to strange pains in my ribs
doubled over as the kids call Red Rover
a swarm of yellowjackets
thick in my side
drawn to my dark, sweet matter
like agents of an invisible alchemist
searching for a child bride

this was when the dead boy was still alive
his light blue eyes like blue fireflies
tossing the football into my arms
as we raced between wisps of silver wind
across the snowbanks of Strawberry Fields

we were so happy - happiness of our dirty knees
happiness of our limbs in the gummy grass
and feelings of curiosity -
our bodies these bottlerockets
waiting for a match -- our minds these racehorses
waiting for a gunshot


then friday would roll around
tolling like a knell
I'd plunge my fingers into the paint
feel it taint me, the smell seep into my hair,
wish i could find a bed inside the primal pigments
and never return to the weekend hell

one day i made a run for it.
the touchdowns had gone to my head.
blue fireflies shouted that i could do anything -
that i could play professional football if i tried --
through the back staircase
the dark matter in my groin roaring
with the will to dare -
past reggie jackson's house --
blow a kiss to his legend --
shudder past the red stain on the sidewalk
where the bicyclist crashed
i made it past 79th street,
to the avenue of treasured art --
the sky swirled like a hope kaleidoscope
a thousand watercolors on a sheet of 'what now?'
my shoes were little purple slippers
and one fell off - it confused me-
on the corner staring at the green light
trapped - with all that blue honeycomb in my belly
blue hive of bee ambition

and no money for a cab..

i turned around, my ten years on earth
told me no one would believe me
what demons roamed this earth --
the library closed early, shhhhhh,
keep your private demons to yourself --
and i grew old on that corner --
older than a black oak
my womb shriveling into sour licorice
a croaking, decaying crone at ten
cut from disappointment cloth.

it was 3pm - still a sky of aquamarine
but inside the black curtain fell -
the boy who had outrun us all
who could throw a ball further than the sun
in six short years shot heroin
and me, I put my shoe back on
and limped to the dark sedan
parked outside my school like a hearse