fontis lux

love-light i sing into the
unprotected current of newness
and green.

bees bloom from their caskets;
an inside queen wobbles and un-yellows,
re-composes; yawns,
where she once complained,
"i raise a slow stink."

fingers uncurl from the sky to rub circles
of blue blood into gelatinous limbs.

there is a tomb to uncase
of dust-frocked apathy:

a new sun to swallow,
blank-faced god of lust and light,

an embalming
to be unfolded from.

bliss wallows in
smoke-curls through the blue:
the poppies smile.

they smell the spring.