Honey Incantation

Spells. 

I learn spells for pollen, for bees,

for the children I do not have yet, 

I learn magic that turns my fingertips yellow, 

How to use a drill: practical magic.

How to call raccoon mystics to my front yard: impractical magic.

How to pin poems to a prayer box: necessary magic.

I prepare my hands for protecting you. 

Breasts.

I learn in cream and nectar, 

wash my breasts in milk and honey, 

eat oranges for fiber and sunshine.

I sleep naked in my bed, 

fry eggs on my nipples in the morning,

let my stomach grow strong and supple,

I prepare my body for holding you. 

Peonies.

I learn spells for dirt, for wet earth,

for the children I do not have yet, 

I grow a garden for you,

first peonies, then mushrooms,

pleasure and sustenance, 

I plant bees in soil,

let them sprout, each bud a wing.

I build you a fairy home of mud and twig,

a house in sunflower skin and teapot,

I kiss the faces of roses each morning,

the bloom of sugar water, petal tongue 

taste their waking on my lips, 

I prepare my mouth to kiss you. 

Quilt.

At night, I commune with calla lilies, 

count out the constellations in each flower, 

white moons suspended by stem,

I watch bats play in the bird bath, 

their winged ballet in water, 

I pick spider webs from the sky, 

spin us a blanket of stardust and silk, 

and with each stitch,

I prepare myself to love you.