Honey
a man stands in front of the shelves
lined with nut spreads and honey
sis short beard is honey-blond
tattoos art his forearms
he doesn’t see me behind him
I eye the honeys, wait
he caresses a bottle, tilts his head
his contemplation is deep, thick honey
he reaches for a top-shelf glass bottle
golden honey hued red from the tinted glass
he reads the labels, spinning the sweet sustenance
I smile, bee-line for the bottle
Excuse me
Oh sorry
No, it’s okay. We’re thinking the same thing, I think
Is this one real? I want the real stuff
Me too
I spin my jar too, read the labels, swoon, buzz
This one’s real, I say, we got the good stuff
That’s what I want
he nods, fists the gold-gleaming vessel
walks away, decidedly, smoothly, honey-rich
*
I text a friend about a photo on Instagram:
who is that tattoo-covered honey you’re leaning into?
*
honey heals
VANESSA SHIELDS 