Our Honey

A long while ago,

Us lovers laid in the shadow of a hazel,

Watching out at the sunset.

I remember, it was as though the world had been steeped

In gold; the sun had knelt gracefully at the horizon, pushing and pulling

At fields of precious wheat and barley, that rippled like silk in the wind.

Us lovers had lain there, a tangled mess of heat and limbs

Our world sugared with a Midas-touch;

Sweet promises turned to honey, dripped from our fingers

Rich and sticky.

We took a jar of cool glass, collected this honey

And buried it there among the roots of the hazel,

Filled with all your promises.

But nestled in dark earth, it didn't take long for your sweet

Promises to sour:

Turn stale and sallow like old dust. 

I went back to that hazel, a long time later.

The sun throbbed raw and red like an eye

Blinded with blood, as it cursed half sunk against the sky.

I dug up where that jar had been hiding all those years,

And saw

That our sweet honey had rusted to iron nails.