B

On a night like this
She came on a holiday
From her land of frozen shoes.
“My little brown B” she called me.
In the far south
Where babies go to sleep in summer
And wake up as men
With toe marks on their chest,
I promised to build her a hive.
......


I knew you were born without a toe mark
The first time I licked your honey skin.
Words froze in the south
The day I stopped making shoes.
Though babies still hibernate here
They do not grow up any more.
I remember your promise
And wish you were born in a hive
I could have saved you then
From dying of a human heart.