My viscera,
glistening unseen,
Accepts the
alcohol diluted of my
Ancestors, while
stoutish friendly bees
Float
apple-petaled-May in lily ponds
Unaware of
drownings, as heedless youth
In muffled purrs
of motors, drive beyond
The fence,
appearing now and then between
The slats of
wired cypress, drowned in fumes
Unlike the
apple-water-laden bees, and die
Alive and young
which I neglected years
And years and
years and alcohol ago.
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