You would rather hear about Hera, wouldn’t you?

Claws, red
With acetone blood,
Like the soft hole of her mouth

Wet red.

Again and again I could circle her painted eyes,
Hoping for an arrow to dart my way.

My life, my time, my young man days
Are dashed upon her stone hard beauty.
Sculpted in softness
Flowing rock, lava flow
Blazing.

Arrogant Bees

Arrogant Bees

Stinging my eyes and you laugh,
A sunset mourning for today’s flowers,

Tears caress, carelessly crying
Drowned, out by your cackling. Don’t stop
Remembering me. Render my fat, as you would make soap,
The kind that stings
Your eyes in the shower.