Each morsel of sweetness:
pinprick on the tongue.
They came in a swarm, a cloud
pillaring down the chimney,
coating the walls, my skin,
buzzing like a dentist’s hands.
Nothing’s ever felt as heavenly

as stingers thrust into the flesh,
as amber sap dripping to the floor.
In my ear, they whisper: eat.
My lips part and in they spill,
to drill holes in my stomach,
my throat, my tongue – blood thick
in my mouth but it tastes just like honey.