To a Sweat Bee

Hello, small familiar. We share seams,
places folded, scored, and easily torn.
You know my secrets, those vulnerable dreams
you aerate with the beat of wings worn
to tatters through our long union. We’ve
learned to be guest and host for the long haul.
Like Tuccia, we’ve carried water in a sieve,
The Tiber to Temple, to prove our virtue to all
who’ve doubted us, moving so mindfully
that not a drop was lost. I hope for you,
too, I’ve been a rich oasis, gratefully
reached amidst sand-storm and dune,
that, in our small corner where we kiss,
slow salt tears alembic into bliss.

***

Devon Balwit’s poems can be found here as well as in The Worcester Review, The Cincinnati Review, Tampa Review, Apt (long-form issue), Tule Review, Sugar House Review, Poetry South, saltfront, and Grist among others. For more, see her website.