By Rae Rozman
When the bees have come home
and made their nests in your ribcage
sectioning out perfect hexagons
of glass blown bone
I will ask the setting sun
to drop golden light through unsteady ventricles
to pour summer like hourglass sands
through thinning fingers
When the bees have come home
whispering tentatively that it is almost winter
I will ask them to delay their slumber
just a little while longer
Rae Rozman is a middle school counselor in Austin, Texas. Her poetry, which often explores themes of queer love (romantic and platonic), loss, and education, has been published in several literary magazines and anthologies. An avid bookworm, you can often find her curled up in the corner with a novel. For poems, book reviews, and pictures of her two adorable rescue bunnies, you can find her on Instagram @mistress_of_mnemosyne
