“Nectar that makes the bees’ leap”
1.
Sixteen in seventy-two
standing swaying
in assembly
a sea of backs of heads
as all the green rows sit
2.
Surrounded by strong-armed catchers
she frequently faints
Blood loss and anaemia
and shame
A drowned kitten
at well bottom
3.
To assuage the well’s cold
she needs to bridge
gaps between neurons
and jangling ganglia
4.
Seeking the sweet solution:
nectar that, honeyed
makes the bees’ leap
Her cavernous throat opens
5.
A passing out parade
at the home barracks
An acceptable
pun
6.
Flat on her back
in a monochrome field
beyond the breached bounds:
midnight and pissed
~
#poetry #addiction #comingofage
It seems we are on a roll of things in common. We had “caldo verde “ my favourite Portuguese soup made with potatoes and a special “cabbage” which I grow in Dublin especially to make this soup. It normally has chorizo, but it is optional. And my favourite which I haven’t found here yet is Greens and Black 85% dark chocolate . Stopped buying salt one because it has more sugar! Lethal stuff.
Wow Liz, very touching and super expressive. Many references connecting to my own experience. Torrential rains here in Portugal. Taking refuge in a small coffee shop. Then I read your poem. And the rain lifted !