Hear me on the wind,
this wanting never ceases.
We aren’t strangers to each other
even after a decade in and out of this desert.
I’ve known since we were seventeen,
how you dream about being surrounded
by constellations, tangled up in galaxies—
how you only feel free at midnight
in the cool mountain air, sleeping
as stars fall around us.
I held hungry words for you then—
longed to get my healing hands on you,
before I knew what kind of power they possessed.
Now, I am branded—yours; feel what bliss you bring.
Every woman I know has been storing anger for years in her body and it’s starting to feel like bees are going to pour out of all of our mouths at the same time. — Erin Keane
You want a constant supply of honey.
A simple craving, you do not want to know
how it is made. Cradle the honeycomb,
on your tongue, savor this moment—
lie to yourself and say this treat
is only for you—it cannot exist without you
wanting it. Forget flowers, and pollination—
greenery is a distraction anyway. You want the bees
manageable, to follow orders—find purpose
only in you. Hum this tale to yourself.
Ignore the approaching swarms.
Marisa Silva-Dunbar’s work has been published in Apathy Press, The Hellebore, Horny Poetry Review, Dark Marrow, Dear Reader, and Marias At Sampaguitas. She is a contributing writer at Pussy Magic. Her work is forthcoming in Sybil Journal, The Charles River Journal, The Cabinet of Heed, and Silk + Smoke. Marisa is the founder and EIC of Neon Mariposa Magazine. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @thesweetmaris.