'as though the essence of a woman was power enough to destroy me.'

Renascent The bees came to mourn your body, as though the nutrients of love past might be deposited into the flower’s life last. The sun sank farther and farther into sea; the fir tree spilled red needles watching you, watching me, turn back over into dust, life ebbing and flowing; lust of new ligaments growing. The bees came to mourn your body as though even buried under snow you might melt the ice; might bring water from your weeping, rose stem eyes; a river running, running, running. Turn brittle fossil into honey; lay the land bare, lead my soul there. Clasp my hand; the flowers told me I shouldn’t care. The bees came to mourn your body as though the essence of a woman was power enough to destroy me. Laying naked in the arms of winter, the way you melt with me is something holy.