he was always trying to catch something sweet
perhaps a drizzle of honey from the hive of bees
that hangs from the tree in your mother’s garden
he claims to have lost his wit in the dip of your thigh.
to you, this honey tastes more like the sting
than the antidote, like a slow poison
an unparalleled violence
*Phrase taken from Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita